The Crimson Badger, Book I  The Warlord
by Highwing
Summary: The Badger Lord Urthblood arrives at Redwall bearing a dire prophecy, and soon the Abbey is preparing for a war like no other.
1. Chapter 1

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter One

He was called Urthblood, and his armor shone as red as his name.

The late summer afternoon sun glinted off the greaves and breastplate of his battle attire as the mighty badger stood in the road before the giant red-brick abbey. For twenty seasons Urthblood had followed the footsteps of fate, and now that path had led him here. The paw of destiny was close, and soon he would know whether all his efforts would be enough to ensure the safety of the lands.

Nobeast had appeared to greet or challenge him. Urthblood's steely gaze traveled from the crenellated battlements atop the perimeter wall to the big double doors of the main gate to the bell tower which reared against the sky, and the peaks of the main abbey building which reached twice as high - the badger's trained warrior's eye missed no detail. Here truly was a place of great strength, a fortress to withstand any siege or assault thrown against it. No wonder it was renowned far and wide as a place of sanctuary in times of trouble.

Except that now their watchfulness left something to be desired. He had been standing outside their gate for no little while, apparently unnoticed. Occasionally his ears caught some snatches of noise from within, some shout or song or mirthful laugh. Perhaps he'd arrived here on a day of celebration, when their guard was lowered and their minds attuned to more frivolous matters. Their reputation for food, drink and festivity was as famous as their hospitality.

No matter; he was no thieving villain seeking to slip into their midst to cause mischief. Where Urthblood went, all would know.

Filling his lungs and swelling his chest to the limits of his armor casing, he reared back his head and unleashed a thunderous cry that reverberated throughout the surrounding countryside of Mossflower Woods.

"Redwaaaaalllllll!"

Immediately all sounds from inside the walls were silenced, and within moments heads started to appear along the top of the western wall. In very short order the battlements were packed with bodies, as countless mice, moles, hedgehogs, squirrels and otters peered warily over the red brickwork to see what manner of creature had interrupted their revelries with such a cry. Every gaze was locked upon him, and a sense of expectancy filled the air as woodlanders and warrior faced each other in silence.

Finally the silence was broken by an older mouse in an ornate habit, brightly muticolored. "Greetings!" he called down from the walltop. "Are you in need of assistance?"

"Are you the Abbot?" Urthblood called back.

"Yes ... er, no ... "

Urthblood's lip curled in bemusement. "Well, which is it?"

The old mouse started over. "I am Arlyn, the retired Abbot of Redwall."

"Good. Then my mission concerns you as well, and any other creature of authority and fighting stead who dwells within your walls. I am Lord Urthblood of Salamandastron, and I bear great and urgent tidings. It is vital that I speak with all of Redwall's leaders. Let me in please."

Half the faces disappeared from the battlements then, as a delegation descended to open the gated main entrance to Redwall Abbey. This still left a large contingent of woodland creatures up above, not wanting to tear their eyes away from the armored badger for even a moment. It was not every day that one of the legendary Badger Lords of Salamandastron came to visit Mossflower Woods.

The labored scraping of wood against wood rent the air as the main bolt was slid back, and one side of the double door swung open. In the shadows beyond Urthblood could see two adult mice, a male in a brown habit and a female in a green one, along with a large female badger clad in a simple sackcloth smock. The female mouse stepped forward.

"I am Abbess Vanessa, and this is Brother Geoff, our Abbey recorder and historian. And this," she indicated the larger creature just behind her, "is Maura, our badger Mother. Welcome to Redwall. Are you alone, Lord?"

"Yes ... for now. I have troops far to the north, but they are presently engaged."

"Oh? Is there trouble there?"

"I have come to tell of great happenings in the lands, both good and evil. There is much to speak of, and it cannot all be said out here standing in the road."

The Abbeydwellers regarded Urthblood uncertainly for some moments. He was quite openly armed, and armed very well, in the fashion of all badger warriors. Burnished red armor encased his upper body from neck to waist. His hind legs were like treetrunks, with proud scars showing here and there through the gray-brown fur. He carried no helmet, but the backpiece of his steel suit rose in a flange like a high collar, shielding most of the back of his head. The circular shield and axe strapped across his back both looked to have seen many a battle, and a great sword hung sheathed at his side. If this were an evil-minded creature, he could obviously cause untold harm once admitted to the Abbey. But the Badger Lords of Salamandastron were known far and wide for their courage, honesty and nobility. They were the perennial protectors of the coastlands from the searat and corsair pirate hordes. Urthblood stood before them, proud, head high, his earnest gaze meeting each of theirs unflinchingly.

The Abbess stirred herself as if from a trance. "Forgive us, Lord, but we are unaccustomed to receiving one so great as yourself. My apologies if we gave the appearance of rudeness or mistrust. You have come to us on a day of celebration, and you are more than welcome to join us." She looked over her shoulder, where others had gathered in the entrance way behind Maura the badger. "Clear the way! Make room for Lord Urthblood to pass!"

The woodlanders retreated, and the three Abbey leaders led Urthblood through the gate into Redwall. The protective wall which encircled the abbey and its grounds was of such thickness that passing under it was almost like passing through a short tunnel.

The other side of the gate gave way to the meticulously cared-for greensward of the inner lawns. By this time most of the onlookers up top had made their way down the wall stairs to join with the other revellers from the Abbey grounds, and the gathering around the newly-arrived badger was quite large. Many were infants and young ones, peeking through the legs of their parents and guardians or out from behind them. A few of the more precocious ones stood up front with the adults.

Urthblood scanned the space within the high walls. The Abbey proper with its attached bell tower stood tall and proud and red in the sunlight, crafted from the same dusky sandstone as the protective perimeter wall. Beyond he could see a large pond and a stand of well-tended trees, probably a fruit orchard. The plain natural beauty of the place stirred his heart, but the practical utility appealed to his warrior side. With its own food and water supply within the sealed grounds, Redwall Abbey was designed as much as a fortress as it was a place of peace and refuge.

Between the main gate and the pond, a large baking pit had been dug, and set up near it were many tables spread with a multitude of delicacies to make any beast's mouth water. Savory aromas of many kinds hung in the air, mingling with the mellow burning odor of the hot charcoal in the pit.

An otter ducked behind Urthblood to see to the closing of the main gate, while Abbess Vanessa invited him to partake of the feast displayed before them.

"We are celebrating the elevation of our chief otter here to the official position of Skipper of Redwall's otters. You must be tired and hungry after your travels. Please join us at our tables, and later we can discuss the matters which have brought you here."

"If it is all the same," said Urthblood, "I would rather get right to the business at paw. I can see your tables are well stocked, and I am sure there will be plenty left after we have spoken."

Brother Geoff snorted a laugh. "You might not say that so quickly if you'd ever seen our newly-appointed otter Skipper Montybank in action. He's the champion scoffer at Redwall, and when he's around, food usually isn't. Not for long, anyway."

A snort of another kind sounded behind them. Urthblood turned to see the otter who'd gone to close the gates.

"I'll have y'know it's hard work keepin' all o' me otter crew well-drilled an' in proper waterdog shape. A beast's gotta keep 'imself well energized fer such a job." Montybank turned from Geoff to Urthblood and gave an informal bow. "Right honored to meetcha, M'Lord."

Urthblood regarded the brawny otter. "If you are Redwall's Skipper of otters, you will want to be at this meeting." He turned to the Abbess. "As will every Redwaller who holds a position of decision making or defense. It distresses me to pull you good folk from you feast, but these matters are of utmost importance."

"They must be serious indeed, for you to urge such haste." Abbess Vanessa turned to Montybank. "Round up the other chief Abbey leaders ... Alexander, Foremole, Highwing, anybeast else you think should be at this meeting. Geoff and I will show Lord Urthblood down to Cavern Hole. We'll meet you all down there."

The otter saluted smartly and hurried off to obey.

Vanessa scanned the crowd until she saw the retired Abbot Arlyn, who'd come down from the walltop where he'd been the first to greet the Badger Lord. He wasn't hard to spot in his fancy embroidered robes. Staying on the fringes of the gathering, the old mouse seemed very self-conscious about his manner of dress, and hesitated when Vanessa called him over to her. "You heard all of that, Arlyn?"

He nodded. "Indeed I did. Although I scarcely know what to make of it all."

"Nor do I. I've only been Abbess for a short time. You should be at this meeting too. You may be retired now, but you have many seasons of experience, and I would not be without your counsel now."

The old mouse nodded once. "Of all the times for you and Sister Aurelia to bully me into wearing a multicolored clown's outfit, it would be the day that a Badger Lord visits!" He gave a sheepish grin toward Lord Urthblood. "You must forgive me, My Lord. I do not usually dress like this!"

"Do not concern yourself, Abbot. There are more important matters to concern us than your choice of garment on this day. The Abbess is right; you most certainly should join us."

"Then I most certainly will."

The assembled Redwallers stood and watched their old Abbot and young Abbess escort the mysterious, crimson-armored badger into the Abbey.

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After all of Redwall's chief leaders and defenders had gone down to the hastily-called council in Cavern Hole, the rest of the Abbeydwellers were left to talk amongst themselves up on the festival grounds. There was much speculation on the significance of the badger's unexpected arrival. Somebeasts returned to the tables, where much food from the feast remained, and expressed their opinions through stuffed cheeks and chewing jaws. Most, however, had eaten their fill and chose to relax in small scattered groups on the greensward or at the pond's edge, dabbling their paws to relieve the summer heat. But no matter where they congregated, no tongue was still.

In the shade of the orchard, three friends joined in the speculation. The two young mouse brothers, Cyril and Cyrus, sat with their constant mole friend Billus, beneath a damson tree whose fruit hung small in the early season.

"What a badger!" Cyrus said, still amazed by the sight of Urthblood. "He must've been twice the size of our Maura."

"Hurr, t'were more loik three toimes, burr hurr," Billus said through a mouthful of unripe damson. "An' that armor ... wot a beast!"

Cyril, the oldest of the three, had a faraway look in his eye. "They said he's from Salamandastron ... a Badger Lord of the Mountain."

Cyrus looked up at his brother. "Salamonsterwot?"

"Salamandastron," Cyril corrected. "You remember, Brother Geoff gave a lesson on it once."

"Yurr, et be a gurt 'n' moighty place boi western sea," added Billus, wiping damson juice from his chin with a digging claw.

"The Badger Lords have been masters of the mountain fortress for ... well, as long as anybeast can remember. They've always protected the coastlands from searat invasions, giving us here in Mossflower country peace from pirate raiders and slavers." Cyril turned upon the grass where he sat, commanding the attention of his sibling and molefriend. "Legend has it that Salamandaston was a volcano once, when the world was much younger than it is now. I've heard that the very first Badger Lords were born from the fires of the mountain, and they tamed that same fire for their mighty forges. No creature commands flame and hammer and anvil like they do. Well, that's because they were born in fire."

"Hurr hurr, doan't you'm be berleevin' that, Cyruz," Billus laughed. "They'm be jus' fairy stories, fer hinfants an' such."

"Don't be too sure, Billus," Cyril said to the mole. "The sword of Redwall's founder Martin the Warrior was made by one of the Badger Lords of Salamandastron. That weapon is older than the Abbey itself, and its blade is still as keen as the day it was forged."

"Burr, there'm be lots o' legernd surroundin' ee sword o' Marthen," Billus nodded. "Sumbeasts says et were made o' metal wot fell from outen ee skoi."

Cyrus's eyes went wide. "Metal from the sky!" he whispered.

"Cudd be, fer all oi knows. But badgers be badgers, an' no beast be a-borned frum foire."

"Oh, you've got no imagination, Billus!" Cyril chided. "Sometimes I think you moles are too sensible for your own good."

"Senzurble enuff not to go getten mixed up in war an' such, loik you'm mousefolk." Billus rummaged through a pouch at his waist. "Anybeast care fer summ carndied chesknutters?"

The two mice ignored his offer of sweets. "What d'you suppose that Badger Lord wants with us here at Redwall?" Cyrus asked his companions.

"We'll find out soon enough, when the meeting in Cavern Hole lets out." Cyril cast an envious glance toward the Abbey building. "Wish I could be down there, though. Hear it with my own ears. Adults never tell us young ones everything that goes on. And if that badger's here on an errand of war, you can bet we'll never get to hear the good stuff."

"Gudd stuff?" Billus shook his head. "Bain't nuthin' gudd about war, Cyrull. Oi'm surprised at you'm speakin' suchloik. Wot'd Brudder Geoffer say if'n 'ee was to 'ear you makin' glory talk about war?"

"He won't find out, unless you go blabbing it to him, mole."

Billus clutched at his round stomach. "Urr ... oi think they damsons doan't be roipe enuff fer proper ettin'. Moi tummee feels sick."

Cyril regarded his friend. "I take back what I said about moles being so sensible."

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Nine creatures sat around the big table in Cavern Hole.

Urthblood was given the head seat, both as a place of honor and because he would presumably be doing most of the talking. The Abbess seated herself at the Badger Lord's right paw.

Vanessa made the introductions. "You've already met Brother Geoff, our Abbey recorder and historian ... Abbot Arlyn ... Maura, our badger matriarch ... and Montybank, our newly-elevated Skipper of otters. That squirrel next to Monty is Alexander, chief of the Mossflower Partrol. Between him and Maura you'll see our Foremole. And that sparrow between Geoff and Monty is Highwing, the leader of the sparrowfolk, or Sparra, who dwell in our attic spaces."

The bird, who sat upon a special low perch that enabled him to sit at a level appropriate to the table, bowed his head to the badger. "We did not meet earlier, My Lord, for my beak was stuck in a pot of flan when you arrived. Not my most dignified moment, I'm afraid."

"So there you have it," Abbess Vanessa concluded. "Together, I suppose you could say we make up the leadership of Redwall Abbey."

Urthblood nodded slowly. "Fine, fine."

The badger's deep voice echoed off the stone walls and the rafters overhead. Cavern Hole was an enormous space, large enough to hold the entire Abbey population, as it had during many past celebrations, and on many a fierce winter's night when the gusting cold had penetrated the upper dormitories. The other creatures at the table waited for Urthblood to continue, but the warrior remained silent as the echoes faded. As the silence threatened to become awkward, the Abbess broke it.

"It has been many generations since the last contact between Redwall and Salamandastron. How is it that a Badger Lord of the Mountain comes to be wandering Mossflower country, all alone?"

"I have wandered much farther than this," Urthblood said. "For the past twenty seasons my brother Urthfist has held the Lordship of Salamandastron, while I have journeyed far and wide on matters of concern to us both."

"Two Badger Lords?" Brother Geoff remarked. "I do not believe I have ever heard of a time when there were two Lords of the Mountain, and I know the histories very well."

"We took joint Lordship of Salamandastron while we were still quite young. I am the elder, but we always ruled as equals. It is good that there are two of us, for these are times for warriors."

Vanessa looked to the Badger Lord with great concern. "You have spoken of nothing but graveness and urgency since you arrived at our gate, My Lord. Tell us what weighs upon you so, and what it has to do with Redwall."

"It is a matter of prophecy," Urthblood began. "High in the upper reaches of Salamandastron there is a chamber which has served as both tomb and throne room over the generations. Carved into its rock walls can be found the living history of all that has come before, and hints at what may yet be. You see, there come times when we Badger Lords are gripped by a mania, a trance, and it is during such times that we go to that chamber, and fate will speak through us into the rock. We awake as if from a dreamless sleep to see what we have carved, for we have no awareness while in the trance. Many prophecies have been foretold in this manner, and more than one Lord of the Mountain has read his doom in words carved by his own paw. It is not always easy to bear this burden of destiny, but it is our lot and we accept it."

"Yes, I have heard of this phenomemon," said Geoff. "Martin the Warrior, our founder, visited Salamandastron during the Wildcat War, and his sword was forged by one of your distant predecessors, Boar the Fighter. Sunflash the Mace and Rawnblade were two Badger Lords who visited Redwall early in its history, and one of our early badger mothers - Mara, I believe - spent much of her childhood in the mountain. More recently, Lady Cregga Rose-eyes was a former ruler of Salamandastron who became our badger matriarch. There is much in our histories about that legendary place."

"You know your history very well," Urthblood commended Geoff. "Twenty seasons ago, I was seized by such a mood as I have described. For the better part of a day, I was in the trance, adding to the carvings on the chamber walls. When I finally came to my senses and looked upon what I had written, I was filled with dread. It was a great prophecy, and an evil one."

Every face at the table was grave, every gaze locked upon Urthblood like iron. "What did it say?" the Abbess ventured.

"That a time of unmatched crisis will come in our lifetimes. That it will encompass all the lands, and all of its creatures."

"War?" breathed old Abbot Arlyn.

"War as never before."

An icy claw seemed to reach through the ceiling to clutch at the very heart of Cavern Hole, as the breath of doom hung upon the still air.

"Tell us," Abbess Vanessa implored, "exactly what does this prophecy say?"

"It is vague about the exact shape of the threat," Urthblood explained. "It seems to suggest more a continued state of turmoil or chaos, rather than any single battle, war or enemy. It may be a time of many different armies facing each other in a multitude of places, over the course of seasons. One thing is clear: the long peace which has held sway over Mossflower is soon to end."

"It is no wonder that you appear so grim," said Vanessa, the color drained from her face. "So, what is to be done?"

"After reading this prophecy, I left Salamandastron in the care of my brother Urthfist and the brave fighting hares of the Long Patrol who have always served the Badger Lords well. They have held the lands along the western coast secure.

"While my brother guarded the mountain and the coastlands, I wandered far and wide throughout the lands, from the base of the great south cliff wall to the far north, all the way to the shore of the eastern sea where the lands narrow. Always I was vigilant for any hint or clue of the coming storm, always assessing the mood of the creatures I met to know whether they could be counted as friend or foe in time of crisis. And I have been preparing. For you see," Urthblood leaned his armored bulk farther over the table toward them, "I am not wholly convinced that the prophecy is inevitable. It may just be that, if we tread upon the knife edge of fate and choose our course of action most carefully, we may be able to deny this destiny. Even if we cannot, measures can be taken to ensure that as many good and honorable creatures as possible can emerge from this unscathed." He leaned back. "Even Redwall may be at peril when the storm breaks. So I have come to assist you in defending your Abbey."

"Defend it from what?" Maura asked her fellow badger. "How can we know what steps to take if we don't know what's coming?"

"Maura has a good point," Arlyn said. "Tell us, My Lord, have you seen nothing in all your journeys that would answer this for us?"

"Nothing definite," Urthblood answered, "although I can tell you of one development that is most unsettling. The power of the searats has grown great, perhaps greater than ever before. Of all the enemies we may come to face, they pose the most obvious and immediate threat.

"At the time that I carved my prophecy and began my wanderings, there were two great searat lords, Farca and Garwal, and each strove to make himself king over all his kind. But their power was nearly equally balanced, and neither could gain the upper paw over the other.

"The day dawned at last when Farca and Garwal moved into open conflict against each other. Garwal was the more competent of the two, and commanded the loyalty of his captains and crew, while Farca was more treacherous and cruel. Farca slew Garwal and prepared to make himself king of all the searats. But providence was not kind to him, for in my journeys I spent some time of my own at sea, and fate placed me close at paw when these events unfolded. I slew Farca, recognizing him for the vile creature he was. This is how it came to pass that the two most powerful of the searats both met their deaths on the same day."

The Redwallers sat in awed silence at the telling of this tale. It was old Arlyn who broke it. "But, if Farca and Garwal are both dead, where is the searat threat?"

"Farca and Garwal kept the searats evenly divided," Urthblood explained. "On the face of it, their deaths might have seemed a great boon to all good and honest creatures. But it cleared the way for a single ratlord to emerge and unite the two fleets. Such a figure has indeed come to power: Whiteclaw, one of Garwal's former captains, who now calls himself Tratton the Searat King. He commanded the respect of Garwal's surviving crews, and with Farca dead, he was soon able to bring that rat's leaderless horde under his rule as well. He has sealed the breach, and rebuilt the island fortress of Terramort. Tratton is probably the first true Rat King since Gabool of old, only more dangerous. His fleet is vast, his fighters are well-trained, and he has raided shore settlements all up and down the coast ... although so far he has always been careful to land well north and south of Salamandastron, beyond the range of my brother's hare patrols. But he harbors ambitions of empire, and his mastery of the sea lanes is absolute. If his power continues to grow, he may soon try to challenge Salamandastron directly."

"Then surely," concluded Abbess Vanessa, "this Tratton will be the bringer of the great crisis you prophecized?"

Urthblood shook his head. "I do not think so. Tratton's sea power may be uncontested, but his crews are not so accustomed to fighting on land. Even were he to capture Salamandastron and the coastlands, he would be hard-pressed to project his power inland very far. Tratton is no fool; he will not jeopardize his sea kingdom to take territory beyond the waterways. No, Tratton is not the only threat to our lands, and he may not even prove to be the worst. I suspect there will be another enemy, perhaps more than one, whose threat we have yet to perceive. The danger may come from some undiscovered source within these lands, or it may come from without - many of the regions east and south of here are strange, and have not felt the paws of honest creatures for many seasons. Other evils of Tratton's magnitude may lie out there as well, as yet unbeknownst to us."

"And you have no idea what they might be?" the Abbess asked.

"No ... just a feeling that the storm is about to break, and we must gird ourselves for the worst. This is why I have come to Redwall now. I have spent most of these past seasons up north, and I have slain many evil creatures there, and still that region remains harsh and warlike. I have also assembled allies who will assist us. My brother and I have always relied upon Redwall to hold peace and order in Mossflower. But now I feel I have done all I can for the Northlands, and the time has come to consolidate the power of Redwall and Salamandastron in this region. The two protectors must unite in common cause. Together we will face these troubles, and through our twin strength persevere."

Urthblood looked to Vanessa. "With your permission, Abbess, I would like to take charge of the defenses of this Abbey ... or, at the very least, be appointed as special advisor to your own defenders, so that we may fortify Redwall against any possible assault. I am a born warrior, and Redwall is currently without a champion to wield the sword of Martin. My skills and experience are needed here."

Alexander cleared his throat. Thus far the squirrel had held his tongue, content to listen while the wiser heads of Redwall conferred with Urthblood. But now he spoke up.

"With all due respect, Lord, we've always looked out for ourselves here at Redwall. Our wallgates have recently been strengthened and renovated. We squirrels of the Mossflower Patrol range far and wide to scout for enemies, as do Highwing and his Sparra. Monty and I regularly drill our defenders. There is a network of fortified tunnels connecting all the most important sites within the Abbey grounds. I really can't see how we can do much more to improve our defenses."

"Me bushytailed matey's right," Monty put in. "This ol' Abbey's 'bout as shipshape as anybeast c'd want her. Don't see as she needs much in th' way o' improvin'."

Urthblood's dispassionate gaze traveled around the cresent of faces, from mouse to mole to otter to badger to sparrow and back again. The Abbess was afraid that Monty and Alex might have offended him, but when Urthblood spoke it was with his typical calm.

"In the time that I stood unnoticed outside your walls, an enemy could have set fire to your main gate and had it burned halfway through. If I had not announced my presence when I did, how much longer would I have had to stand in the road before one of your sentries spotted me?"

Monty and Alex cleared their throats and uttered a few "ers" and "ums," but they were not the only ones at the table to look down in chagrin.

"Lord Urthblood is right," said Abbess Vanessa. "We Redwallers have grown accustomed to peace. All of us here have never known anything else. We have lowered our guard in recent seasons, and we should be thankful it was Lord Urthblood who pointed this out to us, rather than an enemy. There is a time of crisis coming, and this warrior has offered us the benefit of his knowledge and assistance. It would be both foolish and ungracious of us to turn him away."

She turned to the crimson-armored badger. "We accept your offer of help, My Lord, and gladly welcome any counsel you would share with us."

"There is still much to speak of," said Urthblood, "but it can wait for another day. For now I would like to get right to the task of inspecting this Abbey for myself from top to bottom, inside and out, to see how its defenses might be improved. I will need some of you to show me around. Blueprints of Redwall would also be helpful, if you have such plans. And I would like to read any detailed accounts you may have of the wars that you have fought over the seasons."

"Brother Geoff can help you with those last two items," Vanessa said, "since, as you have seen, he knows his history very well. He is in charge of the Abbey archives, and should be able to find what you need."

"I am at your service, My Lord." Geoff turned to the Abbess. "I also have another idea, Nessa ... er, Abbess. It strikes me that many times in the past when Redwall has faced a crisis, our founders seem to have foreseen those troubles and left some bit of hidden wisdom to help get us through. There was the carving under the great tapestry and the clues in Martin's tomb that led us to rediscover the lost sword of Martin when we needed it against Cluny the Scourge, and the verse inscribed up on the roof that aided us in the struggle against Malkariss and Slagar the slaver fox. Maybe they've left something similar for this occasion."

"Good thinkin', Geoff matey!" Montybank declared exuberently. "That's usin' yer ol' brainbox!"

"Yes," agrees the Abbess. "But where will you look?"

"The old records would be as good a place to start as any," Geoff said, "starting with the founding of Redwall and going right up to the present. I could use some help with this, since that will be a tremendous amount of reading. Our two young bellringers, Cyril and Cyrus, both have a good head for history. Perhaps they could be excused from their usual bellringing duties to assist me."

"I think we can find other willing paws to pull the bell ropes for awhile," the Abbess assured him. "And of course you yourself will have to be excused from your teaching duties while you're conducting this search of the archives. In times of trouble, sacrifices must be made ... as I'm sure your students will readily agree!"

She stood to signal the end of the council, and the other eight creatures arose as well. "We've come up with some good ideas on where to start. Let us now go and make Redwall ready ... and just let any evil creature try to take it away from us!"


	2. Chapter 2

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Two

On the banks of the Abbey pond, Winokur the otter danced about sparring with a young sparrow.

Even though the bird had to hop about on one leg, clutching its stout quarterstaff in the other claw, he held his own against Winokur. It was a fighting style pioneered seasons before by Highwing, leader of Redwall's sparrows, and since adopted by many of the birdfolk. The rapidfire clacking of the oaken rods resounded in the late afternoon air, mingling with the birdsong and insect buzz from beyond the Abbey walls.

On a nearby bench, Sister Aurelia the Infirmary keeper and Balla the hedgehog cellar keeper sat tending some of the Abbey's very youngest children. Aurelia was a young mousemaid herself, only recently appointed to her post by Abbess Vanessa. She was quick with her knowledge of herb lore and the healing arts, but her bedside manner was still in need of refinement. And dealing with children was her weakest link. But with Brother Geoff and Maura both down at the conference in Cavern Hole, the odious task had fallen to her.

"Winokur!" Aurelia called out to the young otter with gathering impatience, "you're supposed to be helping with the little ones! Stop playing around like a soggy pup!"

"Aw, Sister Aurelia!" Winokur replied without breaking stride in his jousting, "I gotta get some practice in, or our new Skip Montybank'll brain me."

"I'll brain you first if you don't lend a flipper here - whoa!" Aurelia was balancing a fidgety, pinching mole on one knee and a recalcitrant hedgehog babe on the other, and getting it from both ends - a prickly situation indeed. This was doing little to improve her disposition.

Balla sat alongside Aurelia, a baby vole in her lap. "Oh, let him have his fun, Aurie. It is a feast day, after all."

"Right, Balla, it is a feast day," Aurelia said indignantly. "All the more reason why you and I shouldn't have to do all the babysitting chores ourselves. Winokur, drop that pole and get your rudder over here!"

Winokur, winking mischeviously at his sparrow pal, decided to try a new ploy. "Do you hear something, Rafter matey? A sort of high-pitched, annoying ringing in the ears? Must be from that last smack you snuck in on me ol' noggin."

The Sparra cawed raucously and flapped his wings to maintain his one-legged balance. "Methink you get another smack quicksoon. Your Aurriemouse getting prettymad."

"Ha! Aurriemouse - that's a good one!" Winokur parried a thrust from his sparrow friend and rapped his javelin playfully across Rafter's beak. "Hey, Aurriemouse! How's life on the old folks' bench?"

"I'll Aurriemouse you, you rascal, if you don't get over here to lend a paw. You're not too old to spank, just like I used to spank you when you acted up before bedtime. Just keep it up, if you don't believe me!"

"Haha! First you'll hafta catch me, y' liddle mousey thing!"

Aurelia turned to Balla, teeth gritted. "Sometimes he's as bad as his father," she growled, not caring how loudly she spoke.

Winokur lowered his staff and backed out of the duel with Rafter. "Hey, there's no call fer that," he said petulently. "Leave me ol' Dad outta this, okay?"

"I don't have to leave him out of anything - he does a good job of that all by himself. He could at least have shown up for Montybank's promotion ceremony today, but he's off gallivanting in some distant reach of Mossflower. Rather be wandering about on his own than here with his only son ... "

"Easy, now, Sister," Balla told the mousemaid somewhat crossly. "That was unnecessary." The stout hedgehog adroitly set her bankvole down on the ground, plucked the troublesome molebabe from Aurelia's lap and passed it to Winokur, who accepted it without complaint. Within moments the infant was settled down into the otter's brawny arms. Balla turned back to Aurelia. "See? You just gotta know how to handle them!"

00000000000

As Lord Urthblood and the Abbey elders came up the stairs from their Cavern Hole conference into Great Hall, the badger warrior paused on the top step to take in the space before him.

The afternoon sun sent its rays through the tall stained glass windows high up on the western wall, spilling vivid multicolors across the red sandstone floor at the far end of Great Hall and creeping slowly up the opposite wall. Eventually these rainbow-hued beams from one set of windows would meet the frosted panes of their east-facing counterparts. It was a daily summer display that Redwallers had been enjoying for generations.

"What is it, My Lord?" Abbess Vanessa asked, her softly spoken words hushed in the face of Great Hall's cathedral immensity.

"I noticed something earlier, when we were going down to the council. I would like to take a closer look at it." With several of the others following him, he strode over to stand before the tapestry which hung upon one wall.

The ancient tapestry was the Abbey's most prized treasure, dating back to the earliest periods of Redwall history. A woven image of Martin the Warrior, Redwall's founding champion, adorned the lower edge of the work, which was the oldest part of the tapestry. Succeeding generations had added to it, making this decoration far more than mere art: visitors to Great Hall could take in at a glance many key chapters in Redwall's story, boldly embroidered for all to see - a fluttering, beautiful chronicle of colored fabric. But for all the additions and all the seasons represented, it was still the visage of Martin, resplendent with his sword and shield, that dominated the tapestry and drew the eye to it before all else.

Brother Geoff waved a paw toward the figure and began to explain, "That's Martin the Warrior, our founding - "

"Yes, I know," Urthblood interrupted, shifting his attention to the items that hung on the wall alongside the tapestry. "And this is his shield and sword?"

"Er, yes," Geoff nodded, slightly flustered at having the historical lecture he'd been preparing in his mind cut off so abruptly. "They were both lost for many generations, then rediscovered in the time of Matthias, our second great Warrior. Ever since, they have been cherished and kept well, as reminders of our history and in case we ever need them again."

"But Redwall currently has no champion to carry the sword of Martin?"

"No," answered Abbess Vanessa. "We haven't had one since before I was born. There has been peace in Mossflower for many, many seasons. We've had no need of a champion."

"Do you mind if I take a closer look?" Urthblood asked, reaching out to take the splendid weapon down from its brackets. Testing the balance in his paw (it was a bit small for him, having been made for a mouse, after all), he ran both his gaze and his pawtip up and down the keen edge of the blade, then inspected the handle and pommel stone.

"Yes, a fine weapon indeed," he declared at length. "I myself once forged a sword very similar to this one. I gave it to the captain of my guard in the Northlands, who carries it still."

"That is not too surprising," said Geoff, "since this blade was crafted by a Badger Lord such as yourself."

"True." He replaced the sword in its holder, noticing the worn old sandal that hung from one backet. "May I ask what this is doing here?" Urthblood inquired, indicating the battered old article of footpaw wear.

Geoff, Vanessa and several of the others grinned and chuckled. But it was the sparrow Highwing who answered.

"Before she was our Abbess, or even our Infirmary keeper, Vanessa was a brave and fearless warrior herself. She once used that very same sandal to beat off some of my kinfolk who sought to slay me. I owe my life to her, and to that old shoe."

Urthblood shook his head. "So many stories in this place ... I fear I could dwell here for seasons and still not know them all. I will have to spend a great deal of time indeed reading through your histories."

"You'll have them tomorrow, My Lord," Geoff assured him.

Most of the group started for the door leading to the lawns outside, but Montybank the otter lingered by the sword and shield of Martin. His longtime squirrel friend Alexander stayed by his side. "What, Monty?"

After several seconds of regarding the armaments, Monty lifted down sword, scabbard and belt and fastened them around his waist.

"What do you think you're doing?" Alex asked.

"Well, you 'eard wot that badger said down there," Montybank said. "Tough times a-comin' - Redwall's gonna need a champion soon. Might's well be me."

Alexander gave his old companion a smirk. "What makes you think I'm not more entitled to it than you are?"

"Aw, don't be silly, Alex matey - you're head o' th' Forest Patrol. Bow an' arrows're your weapons o' choice. 'sides, I can't think of a better way t' celebrate my promotion to Skipper. This's my day, y'know!"

00000000000

The crowd around the pond's banks grew as the afternoon wore on. The mouse brothers Cyril and Cyrus and their molefriend Billus came to cool their paws in the inviting waters, as did Friar Hugh. Speculation about Lord Urthblood continued unabated.

"Can't be good, a beast like that coming to us out of the blue all of a sudden," the old mouse cook shook his head in consternation. "Calling all our leaders down into a council like that ... no news is good news, and that badger looked like he was brimming with news."

"Oh, don't be such a doom-monger," Balla chided him. "There's nothing that Redwall can't handle, if it comes right down to it."

"Well, we're about to find out," said young Winokur. "Here they all come now. The meeting must be over."

While Abbess Vanessa and most of the other Abbey leaders showed Lord Urthblood to the tables, pointing the badger through the feast leftovers, Montybank grabbed up a vegetable pastie in one paw and a raspberry tart in the other and sauntered over to the group by the pond, the newly-acquired sword of Martin slapping against his flank in its scabbard as he walked. Redwall's new Skipper of otters grinned at Winokur, who stood with the slumbering molebabe still cradled in his embrace. "Gotcha doin' nursemaid duties now, Wink matey?"

Winokur grinned in return. "I was doin' my drillin' with Rafter here, sir, but Sister Aurelia bullied me into lookin' after this mole."

Monty looked askance at the Infirmary keeper. "You been bullyin' me star pupil? Shame on ye, marm! Mmph, scrkmph!" He paused to demolish the pastie. "'ave you no shame?"

"The scamp was supposed to be lending a paw with these young ones," Aurelia snapped. "Don't you go defending him! Then he'll never take his responsibilities seriously."

"I'd say drillin's a good chunk o' his Abbey 'sponsibilities. An' so's knowin' alla his Redwall history, and he's good at both o' those. Wink 'ere's better at book learnin' than any otter I know. Could be th' first otter Abbot Redwall ever has."

Winokur blushed. What Montybank had said was true, but Winokur was a modest beast, and wasn't accustomed to having praise heaped upon him.

"And I reckon he'll have due cause to practice both 'is strengths in th' days ahead, if'n there's anything to what that badger had t' say."

This remark grabbed the attention of the Redwallers there. "What is it, Monty?" Balla asked. "What did Lord Urthblood tell you down there?"

"Yes," said Aurelia, "and why are you wearing the sword of Martin?"

"Rough seas ahead," Monty said, making the fruit pastry vanish in one admirable swallow. "Mmrph. Tough times, an' all that."

"Yes, but ... what does that mean? What's going to happen?"

"Well, er ... " Monty was never a beast to be at a loss for words. But now that he'd been pressed and made to think about it, he realized that, for all Urthblood had spoken at the council, he still had no clear idea of just what the coming threat to Redwall was.

"Can't rightly say," he ventured at last. "Searat kings and prophecies carved in stone ... all a throw beyond a simple waterdog like me, y'know. But that big ol' badger's gonna help us get ready fer it, wotever it is."

"You, sir, are a ninny," Sister Aurelia announced. "Here comes Alexander. Maybe that sensible squirrel can give us some real answers."

Redwall's chief of the Mossflower Patrol drew up alongside Monty. He seemed taken off guard by all the expectant gazes that were fixed upon him. "What, did I forget to bathe today?" the hearty squirrel joked.

"We're waiting to hear what happened down there," said Sister Aurelia. "This ruddertailed buffoon can't tell us anything."

"Yes, what can you tell us about that meeting?" echoed Balla.

Although Alexander was far more earnest and less flamboyant in his speech than Montybank was, it soon became clear that he was equally at a loss to explain the details of Urthblood's prophecy.

"But Geoff has an idea," he concluded. "He thinks there might be some clue buried in Redwall's history that might be able to help us." Alex turned to the two young mouse brothers. "Cyril, Cyrus ... Geoff would like to have a word with the two of you. He wants you to help him search through the archives. Said you had good heads for this kind of thing."

The two brothers were not overjoyed by the prospect of spending hours or days of this glorious summer in the dingy, dark archive cellars. "But we're the bellringers!" Cyril protested.

Montybank reprimanded them sharply. "I'll jerk those waterlogged bellropes meself if that's wot our dear ol' Abbess wants. We all hafta do our part fer th' safety o' this grand ol' place. And if you two are needed by me ol' mate Geoff, by me rudder that's where you'll go!"

Winokur decided to step in to soften the older otter's scolding. He knew Cyril in particular held a respectful fascination for Redwall's founding mouse warrior.

"You know, if Martin the Warrior were here, and he thought he could help Redwall by helping Geoff go through the records, he'd consider it his honor-bound warrior's duty to do so. In fact, I'll bet he would have jumped at the chance."

Cyril perked up. "You really think so?"

"Sure," Alexander chimed in. "And I'll tell you something else. Redwall's history is full of wars and battles and adventures and quests and mysteries. Reading through it will be like a thousand great bedtime stories all rolled into one. Why, I'd give my prize tail bracelet for the chance at what you've been asked to do. Unfortunately, I'll be needed elsewhere. My tough luck, I guess."

Cryil and Cyrus brightened considerably. They hadn't thought about it like that.

"Now you two run along," Alexander prompted them. "Brother Geoff is waiting for you."

The two mice rushed to obey the squirrel chief, their green novice's habits flapping as they ran.

"That did the trick," Winokur chuckled.

"Like I said before," Balla told Aurelia with admiration, "you just gotta know how to handle the young ones."

Montybank turned to his young protege. "Hope y'really feel like y' said, Wink, 'cos I promised Geoff you'd help out too. Yer head fer Redwall history's better'n those two put t'gether."

Winokur's face fell. "But ... but ... "

"Not but's 'bout it, Wink lad," Monty said, stepping over to the younger otter and relieving him of the sleeping molebabe. "Off y'go now, Geoff's waitin' fer you!"

00000000000

The sun had nearly set below the western wall when the Abbey leaders emerged from Cavern Hole after their meeting with Urthblood, and most of Abbey grounds were covered in lengthening shadows. While Abbess Vanessa showed the badger warrior to the tables, and Monty and Alexander went to fetch the youngsters who would help with the search of the archives, old retired Abbot Arlyn hung back with Maura the badger Mother.

Arlyn held out the sleeves of his multicolored festival habit. "Just look at this! I feel like a clown in these robes. I never should have let Vanessa talk me into wearing them, even for a feast day. Of all the days for a Badger Lord to show up at Redwall, it would have to be the one when I'm dressed up like a traveling show fool!"

"You had no way of knowing such an important visitor would be appearing at our gate this day," Maura consoled him. "If you ask me, Lord Urthblood should be glad he came to us on a celebration day - he gets to see Redwall at its very best, with all the food, drink and cheer we're famous for. As for your habit, I think it makes you look rather regal."

"Oh, come now!"

"Well, it is a little ... blinding."

Arlyn made a sour face. "Think I'll run upstairs and put on a proper brown habit of the order ... "

Maura wrapped her massive badger's paw around his shoulder. "Oh, you're just being a temperamental old mouse!"

"I'm a retired Abbot," he said with mock self-importance. "We're allowed to be temperamental. It's a privilege of my station!"

Laughing, the two old friends joined the others at the tables.

00000000000

Foremole was acquainting Lord Urthblood with the virtues of tater, turnip and beetroot deeper'n'ever pie, a traditional culinary specialty of moles.

"Hurr, zurr, 'ee's not as 'ot as 'ee shudd be, but oi think you'm still loike et."

The badger warrior sampled a forkful from the plate Foremole had piled high for him, and nodded in satisfaction. Glancing over the tables, he said, "Most creatures in the Northlands go their entire lives without ever seeing this much food in one place."

"Well, this isn't exactly a typical Redwall meal," Abbess Vanessa said, somewhat abashed at this reminder that many creatures did have to survive with far less than the plenty to which the Redwallers were accustomed. "We do eat well here, even in lean times, but we are ever mindful to share our bounty with less fortunate beasts who otherwise might go hungry."

"A good way to win the hearts and minds of creatures," Urthblood observed.

"We act out of charity and decency, not to make alliances," Brother Geoff put in quickly. "Things are different here than in the north. We help our fellow creatures because we choose to, and because ... well, it's simply the Redwall way, that's all."

From the corner of his eye Geoff saw two small figures making their way toward him from the pond. "Ah! Just the two fine young bellringers I wanted to see! Cyril, Cyrus, I've got a special project I'd like you to help me with."

"Master Alexander told us all about it," Cyrus blurted out with more enthusiasm than Geoff had expected. "We're gonna look through the archives!"

"Well ... yes," Geoff smiled uncertainly. "You two seem positively delighted by this, so I guess I picked the right mice for the job."

"An' I'm gonna help 'em!" Winokur chimed in as he sauntered up behind Cyril and Cyrus. The young otter was clearly forcing himself to seem cheerful about the assignment, for the benefit of the two mice.

Cyril had stopped in front of Geoff, but his attention was entirely on Urthblood. For several moments he just stood and stared at the badger warrior in his red armor.

Maura came over to him and playfully ruffled his head fur. "Not polite to stare at our visitors, you young scamp."

"Oh. Er ... sorry." Cyril looked up at Urthblood, who stood more than twice his own height. "Are you a warrior?" he asked, and then felt his ears start to burn at having asked such an obvious and childish question.

Urthblood's face softened. Not an actual smile, but some of the stern grimness melted away.

"Of course," he said, in a voice so natural it made Cyril forget his momentary embarrassment.

"I'm gonna be a warrior someday," he said before he knew what he was doing, or why. The thought had merely pushed its way to the front of his mind and spilled from his mouth of its own volition.

Maura and the other Abbey leaders stared openmouthed at Cyril's wholly unexpected declaration, while his brother Cyrus plucked a peach tart off the table, stuffed it into his mouth and said, "Me, too," ever mindful of following his sibling's lead.

Geoff shook his head. "Cyril, I think you've been standing too close to the bells while you've been ringing them."

But Urthblood showed no surprise at Cyril's statement, and spoke without condescending to the not-quite-adult mouse. "You may wear the habit of a simple Abbey mouse, but a stronger spirit has just voiced itself through you. Follow it, and you will be as great and brave a warrior as you want to be."

"Please, don't encourage him, My Lord," Maura said to her fellow badger. "He's just young and foolish. In a few days he'll want to be something else. He's just caught up in the excitement of your arrival. Aren't you, Cyril?"

"Uh, er ... "

"Perhaps," said Urthblood. "But if a beast is destined to become a warrior, then nothing can stand in the way of fate."

"Well, for now these two are our bellringers, as well as our assistant archive-delvers," said Geoff. "Their warrior ambitions will just have to wait."

Cyrus paused in popping another pastry into his mouth. "I wanna read the histories, an' hear all about the wars and battles and villains and ... " His litany was lost in the crumbs of the tart that finally found its way between his jaws.

Geoff, ever the peace-loving recorder and historian, merely shook his head. "Where do today's youths get their ideas?"

00000000000

It was decided that Lord Urthblood should stay in the large dormitory room up on the third floor. It was the only available chamber large enough to comfortably accommodate a fully-grown male badger.

The sun had set in fiery summer splendor, and now the gloom of twilight had to be chased from the corridors of Redwall Abbey by torches, lanterns and candles. As Maura led Urthblood up the spiral stone staircase to the uppermost dormitory level, they passed Brother Jerome setting alight the night torches that lined the long hallway in recessed sconces. The torchbearing mouse nodded to them respectfully and bade them good night as he hurried off to complete his rounds, bringing the welcome comfort of a warm glow to all of Redwall's interior.

They halted before a door near the end of the corridor. Maura opened it and ushered Urthblood inside. The spacious room was simply appointed with a badger-sized bed, a small table, and a couple of large, deeply-cushioned highback chairs. Two fringed throw rugs lent a cozy air to the chamber by hiding much of the bare floor.

Maura set her small lantern down on a shallow wall shelf near the door. The double high windows faced west, and the glorious crimson sky of sunset's afterglow was visible over the western Abbey wall. Enough light from that evening display came through the windows to cast a ruddy hue to the room.

Urthblood took in his new surroundings with his traveling warrior's gaze. "Is this your room? It looks tailored to a badger's needs."

Maura shook her head. "There was another Badger Lord who dwelt at Redwall for some seasons, long before I came here. Orlando the Axe, Lord of the Western Plains. This was where he dwelt during his time here. It is said that he may have left Redwall to go in search of your own home Salamandastron. By any chance, do you know if he was ever Lord of the Mountain before you?"

Urthblood shook his head. "The name is unfamiliar to me. But I do not have every one of my predecessors committed to memory. I am sure he was able to find Salamandastron, if it was his fate to rule it."

"Anyway, this room has been maintained thus ever since, in the event that any others of his kind should visit Redwall. I always thought it was somewhat silly, but now it's almost as if it was being saved for you." Maura shrugged. "Redwall is a place of spirits. They watch over us. And they may have known you were coming."

"The forces of destiny are not to be underestimated." Urthblood crossed the floor to stand at one of the windows. From that vantage he could look out upon the Abbey lawns, the gatehouse cottage, and the western wall with its main gate. The walltop ramparts came almost up to this level; only be straining could Urthblood see the rolling golden swells of the Western Plains beyond, and the misty shadow line of mountains beyond that.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" Maura drew up alongside him. "Wait until you see it in the full brilliance of a summer's day, with the green and gold of the plains peeking over the red sandstone wall at you. I think that's why Orlando lived up on this floor. Even though he spent many seasons here at Redwall, it is said he never stopped thinking of himself of Lord of the plains. That was his realm, and he could glimpse it from here, or more fully from the west wall ramparts. In this way, he was able to enjoy both of the places he loved most."

"He was fortunate that there was such a large room available for him up here."

Maura chuckled. "Funny you should say that - I thought the same thing when I first moved to Redwall. But Foremole soon set me straight on that. Originally, this was two smaller dorms. Foremole and his crew knocked out the wall to make it a single room that would be comfortably large enough for Orlando. That's why there are two windows instead of the usual one."

Urthblood examined the floor, walls and ceiling between the two windows. "Seamless work. Your moles are quite skilled."

"No finer mason beasts anywhere," Maura boasted.

"I know some moles up in the Northlands who might care to take up that challenge." Urthblood moved to two small, framed vegetable-dye portraits of female badgers that hung on one wall. "Who are these?"

"I believe one is Orlando's daughter Auma, who like me became Redwall's badger matriarch. The other may be his wife, who passed away when she was quite young - I'm not certain. Orlando painted those himself, you know. Art became a hobby of his during his seasons here, although he was always first and foremost a warrior."

"He was a talented artist. I myself have dabbled with drawing, although my own interests run more toward architecture."

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. Do let us know if you need anything."

Urthblood unfastened his sword, shield and axe and laid them on the bed. "Thank you. The hospitality of Redwall is indeed all that I have heard, and more."

The words and voice were gracious, but still no trace of a smile cracked its way onto Urthblood's striped muzzle.

"Good night, My Lord." Maura nodded, and closed the chamber door softly behind her as she exited into the hall. For all of Urthblood's grimness, she had to admit to herself that it was good to finally have another badger staying at Redwall. And a male one at that.

00000000000

In the hour after midnight, Redwall Abbey slumbered beneath a new summer moon, bright and sharp as a sickle blade in the black, star-pierced mantle of the night sky.

Sister Aurelia was quite alone as she tip-pawed up the winding staircase to the top dormitory level, and quietly made her way along the corridor to Urthblood's room. As keeper of the Infirmary at Redwall, she was accustomed to keeping irregular hours, since sickness and injury could strike at any hour of the day or night. And since Redwallers were generally a healthy lot, Sister Aurelia often found herself with much free time on her paws, time that she filled by appointing herself to various other sundry tasks. One of these was to help look after the comfort of visitors to the Abbey.

So it was that she now came to be carrying fresh towels and a basin of perfumed water to Urthblood's quarters while nearly every other creature of Redwall lay fast asleep in its bed.

Setting the basin down carefully outside the room, she opened the door a crack and gave thanks that the hinges had been oiled recently. It wouldn't do at all to wake a guest in the middle of the night. Aurelia prided herself on her stealth, and being able to come and go without waking even the most skittish rabbit. Retrieving the basin from the floor, she pushed her way into the room.

The only source of light was the lowly guttering wall torch out in the hallway, and it took a moment for Sister Aurelia's eyes to adjust to the near-darkness inside the room. Once they had, she gave a surprised gasp and nearly dropped the basin.

Urthblood lay upon the bed, propped into a sitting position by pillows against the wall ... and he still wore his full complement of armor, as he had since his arrival at Redwall. She could tell from the two faint glints in his face that his eyes were open, and he was looking directly at her.

"Oh!" Sister Aurelia stammered. "My Lord, I ... I didn't mean to disturb you ... "

"You did not disturb me." The badger's tone was resonant and calm in the darkness, the glint of his eyes unflinching. Aurelia felt she was being examined; it was an eerie experience. "You are the healer. Sister Aurelia, isn't it?"

"Oh, why, yes." Aurelia had only met Urthblood very fleetingly at the feast; she wasn't sure they'd even been introduced. Even if he did remember her from the previous afternoon, she was amazed that he could recognize her in the dim illumination from the corridor beyond. "I was just ... uh, bringing you some water and towels, in case you wanted to freshen up in the morning before you came down to breakfast."

"Thank you. That is most thoughtful."

Aurelia set the basin upon the small table, folding the towels neatly alongside it. "Do you always sleep in your armor?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational.

"Who says that I sleep?"

Now Sister Aurelia was totally unnerved. She was still a youthful mousemaid, but extremely self-possessed and no-nonsense where her official duties were concerned. Aurelia was accustomed to working with uncooperative patients and the occasional nasty injury, and was not easily intimidated by beast or circumstances. But being with Urthblood now was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It was almost like she was conversing with a creature of the spirit world. He was with her here in this room, but he also seemed to dwell elsewhere at the same time.

She edged toward the open door, keeping her face toward the badger warrior. "Well ... I guess I'll see you in the morning, sir ... uh, Lord. Let us know if there's, er, anything else ... "

"Thank you. I will."

Sister Aurelia slid through the opening and closed the door harder than she normally would have so late at night. She stood for a moment gathering her wits back to her, then scurried down the corridor, glad to be away from Redwall's newest guest.


	3. Chapter 3

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Three

Montybank and Winokur were up before sunrise. Two of the Abbey's other younger otters, Rumter and Brydon, helped them work the nets in the pond for catches of freshwater shrimp. Monty had replaced the sword of Martin in its rightful place in Great Hall, not wanting to get it wet in the pond. By the time the pale blush of dawn had blossomed into full summer morning, the four of them had hauled in two bulging netfuls of the tasty crustaceans.

"I think our little pond's getting shrimped out again, Montybank sir," Winokur said, struggling with his end of one load. "Guess it'll soon be time to make another trip to the River Moss to restock."

"Right you are, Wink laddo! Daresn't let our shrimp pool run low, eh? We'll make a rudder-walloping day trip of it - roll out th' barrels an' the ol' cart, pack a day's vittles fer all th' otters lads 'n' lasses ... and get Maura to play carthorse. Nobeast c'n pull that contraption like that great hulking stripemarm of ours!"

Rumter and Brydon were struggling with their burden. "Skipper," Rumter called out, "We're 'avin' trouble liftin' ours."

"Then open the top a scritch an' spill some back inta th' pond. There y'go - good work! Righto, now then, hearties, let's get these li'l wrigglers into th' kitchens. Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup fer lunch t'day, mates! All you can eat!"

Brydon sniggered at his companion as they all lugged off for the Abbey. "All we can eat, 'ee says? Not if'n he gets to it first, Rumter matey!"

"I 'eard that!"

00000000000

The Abbey kitchens were busier than usual for the morning after a feastday. Many Redwallers would normally skip breakfast altogether following a meal of such proportions, and some would scarcely eat all day. But the infants and young ones would never stand for a day without breakfast. And on this morning, Redwall had an important guest to think of as well, so there was no question of not opening the kitchens for the morning meal.

Sister Aurelia, unable to sleep after her strange encounter with Urthblood, had come down to the kitchens to lose herself in labor as she mulled over the experience. Working through the predawn hours, she'd prepared an entire batch of honey bread and had it laid out in pans and ready for the ovens by the time Friar Hugh joined her.

Now those loaves stood cooling upon racks and tabletops, while a second batch was rising in the multi-tiered ovens. The aroma could only be described as heavenly, and as it wafted up through Great Hall and to the dormitory levels, beasts of all species awoke to greet the day with mouths watering. More than one Redwaller who'd sworn not to eat a thing this morning would be persuaded by their noses to change plans ... which was just fine, because there was plenty for every creature at the Abbey.

Unless, of course, Montybank got to them first.

The squad of otters hit the kitchens like an unexpected tidal wave, swinging their heavily-laden shrimp nets this way and that without any regard for life or limb. Friar Hugh and his helpers had to scatter to get out of the way, while Sister Aurelia dove beneath the nearest table.

"Right ho, lads, that's good haulin'! Hey, wot's this? Ah, a reward fer yer hard-workin' Skipper!" In a single smooth motion Monty flung down his end of the net he and Winokur were carrying and plucked up one of the cooling loaves. Half of it disappeared in one bite. "Mmmph ... fine bakin'! Think I'll 'ave another ... Ouch!"

Friar Hugh, recovering from the otter onslaught, had grabbed his favorite ladel and rapped Montybank's paw as the gluttonous creature reached for a second loaf.

Monty stood rubbing his smacked flipper, a comical look of hurt innocence on his face. "Aw, now why'd y'go an' do that fer, me ol' Friar bucko?"

"Out! Out of my kitchen, you waddling feedbag!" Friar Hugh stood brandishing his prized utensil. The Friar was a tall, lean whipcord of a mouse, so wiry that some said he merely slipped between gaps in the wall bricks whenever he wanted to leave the Abbey. He was undisputed master of Redwall's kitchens, and although he probably weighed only a fifth what Montybank did, the otter Skipper was thoroughly cowed by Hugh's authority here.

Monty's expression of petulance deepened. "I do not waddle!"

"You have been a plague upon my kitchens every day since I became Friar! Scoffing everything in sight, raiding the stocks, grabbing ingredients while my back's turned ... it's a miracle I've been able to get a single meal prepared with you around! Now, get out!"

"Sorry, matey. Love t' oblige, but 'fraid I can't." Monty's paw shot out for a plate of candied chestnuts. By the time Friar Hugh's ladel came down, the nut was already in Monty's mouth. "Y'see, me mateys an' I've got some shrimp stew t'stew up. So clear us some table space, 'cos we got t'get choppin'!"

Friar Hugh glared at the loaded nets, mortified at the water leaking all over his immaculately clean floor. "Shrimp stew?"

"Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, to be proper 'bout it. Oh, howdy, Sister Aurelia! Wot're you doin' down there? Yes, Friar, seems we didn't 'ave any of our otter soup secialty left over from yesterday, so's we got t'make some more. Got an important guest t' impress, don'tcha know?"

"No leftovers, eh? Wonder why." The Friar heaved a resigned sigh. "Okay, okay. Push those nets off to the side, and as soon as we're done getting breakfast ready, you and your gang can make your soup. But for now, get out! I don't want you scoffing up all my work before it even gets out of this kitchen."

"Nothin' wrongful 'bout scoffin', me dear mouse. A lot t' be said fer it, in fact." Monty ran his gaze up and down Friar Hugh. "You should try it yerself. Ain't friars s'posed t' be fat?"

"Two seasons of one's youth spent as a slave will leave its mark on anybeast. Maybe if you'd known a little hunger in your own days, you wouldn't be such a glutton now."

"Glutton? Will th' insults never end? Yesterday I was th' guest of honor at me own feast, now I'm just a waddlin', gluttonous feedbag!" Monty went into a mock swoon, then rounded on his otters. "Right, you 'eard our frymaster! Push those nets under th' table an' outta the way - whoops! Watch out fer Sister Aurelia! - an' we'll toddle off fer a bit while the breakfast shift tidies up. There, that's shipshape!" Monty turned back to Hugh an snapped an ostentatious salute to the Friar. "There, yer kitchen's back t' you, M'lord Cooker! Call us when th' soup cauldrons are free!"

Even as the quartet of otters trooped off toward Great Hall, a long, low rumbling came into the kitchen from a tunnel on the opposite end. A large cask appeared from the opening, rolling straight toward the kitchen staff and causing them to scatter once more.

Balla, the burly hedgehog cellarkeeper, appeared on the heels of the barrel, which rolled to a stop in the middle of the floor. Balla was the master of the drink cellars every bit as much as Friar Hugh was lord of the kitchens. She peered past the oversized cask, taking in the confusion all about her.

"Quiver my spikes," Balla said, "I coulda swore I heard that cheeky Skipper of ours, but he don't seem to be about."

"You just missed him and his gang of thieves," Friar Hugh informed her.

"Thank goodness for that. He'd've quaffed up all my cordial, an' left none fer the Brothers and Sisters."

Sister Aurelia stood brushing shrimpnet water from her habit. "Don't you know it, Balla." She cast an eye toward the barrel. "I say, should you have been rolling it along like that? I thought that would get it all clouded up?"

"Right you are, Aurrie. This'n here's an empty. T'was leaking a bit, so I drained off the clear portion into flagons fer today's meals. All that's left in here's the dregs. I'll wash her out an' try to patch her up. Failin' that, guess I'll jus' set her out in the cloisters. Might make a good rain barrel, or maybe a planter or somesuch."

"Well, I suppose that means we won't run short of drink this day. What flavor was it?"

"Strawberry. With a bit o' fizz to it."

"Ooo. The little ones will love that. It's their favorite." Aurelia glanced about the kitchens. "Fresh warm bread and cold strawberry cordial for all! I think this is going to be a good morning!"

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Breakfast was taken that morning on the Abbey lawns. The bright summer sun lit up Redwall in its full splendor of red masonry and dew-speckled grass, the tiny droplets refracting the sunlight into a million miniature points of rainbow sparkle on the fresh green carpet. Children who'd finished eating ran back and forth on the lawns, heedless of the dawn dampness that wet their footpaws. It was the kind of morning Redwallers cherished.

The Abbey leaders gathered around a table near the pond. Maura sat alongside Urthblood, who'd made a late appearance, while Geoff and the Abbess nestled together on a bench across from the two badgers. Even Montybank took a respite from his soup cooking duties to break bread with his companions.

"Glorious mornin', ain't it?" Makes a beast mighty glad t' be alive."

"Yurr, moighty glad indeed," Foremole agreed, pouring his third tumbler of the strawberry fizz.

Urthblood chewed his bread contemplatively, letting his gaze wander all about him. "Yes, this is a wonderful place you have here. Especially for the youngsters, and the old ones. No such sanctuary as this exists in the Northlands ... although perhaps someday we could build one."

"Wonderful idea!" Monty muttered through his doughy mouthful. "We can call it Redwall North ... mebbe open up a franchise, exchange emissaries an' all that."

Vanessa and Geoff chuckled at this suggestion, but old Arlyn smiled. "You know, I believe Martin the Warrior would approve of that idea. He was originally from the Northlands himself, after all. I think he would have built ten Redwalls in his life if he'd been able, all throughout the lands, to benefit as many creatures as possible. As it was, Martin barely lived long enough to see this one finished."

Urthblood raised his mug. "A toast then. To Redwall North!"

"And South, East and West!" Monty added, hoisting his own cup. "Why stop at one?"

"Multiple Redwalls?" Vanessa shook her head, laughing. "I'm sorry, but I just can't picture such a thing. Maybe my imagination simply isn't vivid enough, but ... oh, well!" She joined the others in raising her drink in salute. "Here's to as many Redwalls as the goodbeasts in all the lands can manage to build and maintain. And if that's not the strangest toast I've ever made, then I'm not Abbess!"

Everybeast at the table, and a few who stood nearby, laughed and toasted and revelled in the jollity of the moment. All except Urthblood, who seemed at ease but remained solemn and serious.

Vanessa turned to the badger warrior. "Forgive me if I'm prying, My Lord, but Sister Aurelia tells me you slept in your armor last night. That can't have been comfortable!"

Urthblood seemed untroubled by the inquiry. "In the north, comfort is a luxury that can get you killed. I realize I am not in the Northlands now, but the habits acquired over many seasons of hardship are not so easily shed."

"Nor is your armor, apparently," Monty laughed boisterously.

Urthblood looked at the otter without smiling. "Just so."

Brother Geoff leaned in with a change of subject. "My Lord, I did a little work in the archives last night before going to bed. I've got some of the records you were asking about. I haven't located the Abbey plans yet, but I've a good idea where they might be. It shouldn't take too long to dig them up. If you'd like to come down with me once we've finished breakfast, I can let you have everything you wanted."

"No need for haste," Urthblood assured the historian. "First I would like to have a more complete tour of the Abbey than the brief one I was given last night. That should take most of the morning. After that, I can stop down by you to collect the journals and plans. I would prefer to study them in the privacy of my room, where I will be able to concentrate fully. I trust that will give you sufficient time."

"Oh, plenty. They'll be waiting, whenever you're ready."

For the second time that morning, the mellow bonging of the twin Matthias and Methuselah bells rang out from the bell tower, announcing the official end of mealtime and the start of the day's appointed tasks.

The Abbess gave a chuckle. "I saw Cyril and Cyrus running off toward the tower a moment ago. Those two certainly do immerse themselves in their bellringing duties!"

"Enjoy it while you can, Vanessa," Maura said, "because once they start helping Geoff in the archives and we have to assign some substitute bellringers, I doubt you'll hear our two bells ring in such harmony for some time to come."

"Or perhaps never again," Geoff said with a smile, "once our young Cyril becomes a fearsome warrior and marches off to battle. I can only hope those two apply themselves to our archive search with the same enthusiasm they show toward bellringing!"

That comment met with much merriment among the Redwallers gathered around the table, and their laughter mingled with the pealing of the twin bells.

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Urhblood's tour of the Abbey did indeed take until the noon meal. He walked the entire ramparts of the perimeter wall, where he stopped frequently to gaze out over the battlements and scrutinize the lands that led up to Redwall in all directions. Next he visited Arlyn in his cottage by the main gate, at which point the retired Abbot mouse joined Alexander and young Winokur as their fellow tour guide for Urthblood. Foremole conducted the four of them through the underground tunnel system that connected many different parts of the Abbey grounds, then Balla showed them all the nooks and crannies of her beverage cellars. From there the tour went through Cavern Hole and up into Great Hall, Redwall's majestic gathering place for indoor feasts and celebrations, and thence up to the Infirmary and all the dormitory levels.

They visited the kitchens on their way back out to the lawns, where the tour ended with a climb to the top of the bell tower. Tall as it was, the tower only reached half as high as the steepled roof peak over the main Abbey. It was in those highest roof spaces that Highwing held court over the sparrowfolk, or Sparra, of Redwall. The enormous attic gallery was named Warbeak Loft, Urthblood learned, in honor of a Sparra queen who'd sacrificed herself in battle many seasons before to save Matthias, the warrior mouse who'd rediscovered the long-lost sword of Martin and defeated the dreaded searat Cluny the Scourge.

"There certainly is a great deal of history attached to your Abbey," Urthblood commented on hearing this latest tale as he stared out from the bell tower's open windows.

"That there is," affirmed old Abbot Arlyn. "More than enough to keep any ambitious historian occupied for a lifetime. Brother Geoff once tried to count the number of generations that have passed since Redwall was founded, based on the journals and diaries kept by the various recorders before him. He thinks it's over a hundred, but an exact count is probably impossible."

Urthblood nodded. "Can Warbeak Loft be accessed from inside the Abbey?"

"Not easily," answered Alexander. "There's a hatch door the birds can use to enter Great Hall, but for the most part the attic spaces are only safely accessible to flying creatures. In an extreme emergency, a squirrel such as myself could climb up from the outside, but it's no easy feat."

"I would consider that something of an architectural flaw," rumbled Urthblood observantly. "Why would your founders design Redwall so that neither this bell tower nor Warbeak Loft could be entered from within the safety of the main Abbey?"

"Um ... er ... " Nobeast at Redwall was accustomed to having the wisdom of their honored Abbey founders questioned in such an open manner. It left Arlyn and the others literally speechless.

"No matter. Such things can be corrected if need be."

Maura had wanted to be the one to show her fellow badger around Redwall, but some of the young ones had started acting rambunctious after breakfast, and her strong mother's paw had been required to settle them down. Vanessa joined Urthblood and his escorts for the indoor parts of the tour through the main Abbey, when she wasn't called away to oversee the various routine Abbey matters that always occupied the attentions of Redwall's Abbots and Abbesses.

The tour now complete, Urthblood joined all the Redwallers for lunch out in the orchard. The main course was, of course, Monty and the otters' shrimp and hotroot soup - two cauldrons' worth - plus varieties of fresh summer salads, plain and nutted cheeses, more breads from the ovens, and plenty of October ale to wash down the spicy soup. A carousel of several different kinds of fruit pie was wheeled out for those with a sweeter tooth, or who fancied a bite of dessert to follow the main meal.

The harmonious tolling of the twin Matthias and Methuselah bells heralded the start of the noontide meal. Since Geoff was still getting things in order down in the archives, he'd excused Cyril and Cyrus so that the mouse brothers could engage in their bellringing duties one last time before immersing themselves in the Abbey records.

The overhanging branches of the orchard's trees provided shady refuge from the hot summer sun, now almost directly overhead. The woodlanders took their meal at leisure; Urthblood ate with mechanical efficiency, commenting on the quality of the food and drink but giving no other sign of pleasure or enjoyment. He finished before most of the others, and strolled over to the edge of the orchard that afforded an idyllic view of the pond.

Monty, Geoff and the Abbess joined the badger warrior. A fish stirred in the distant pond, disturbing the surface with slow ripples that were as lazy as the summer day itself.

"Beautiful spot, isn't it?" Vanessa said. "I always loved coming here when I was a child, especially on hot days such as this. Just looking at the pond seems to cool a beast off."

Urthblood pointed over the pond to the walltop beyond. "If I were an enemy of Redwall laying siege to this Abbey, and I had large birds in my service, I would prepare bundles of strong posion and have my birds fly high over the wall, out of arrow range, and drop them into your pond, thereby destroying your source of drinking water."

The three Redwallers stared at him in mortified silence.

Urthblood nodded slowly to himself. "That is what I would do, if I were an enemy of Redwall." Apparently satisfied with this analysis and saying no more, the Badger Lord ambled off toward the gardens, leaving the other three gazing after him.

Montybank was the first to find his tongue. "Cheery fella, that 'un. Must'nt ferget to invite him to our next otter jamboree. He'll be th' life o' the party!"

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When lunch was fully over, Montybank and his otters put on a jousting exhibition for Lord Urthblood. Many Redwallers took a break from their afternoon tasks and duties to watch the display.

Forming a wide semicircle on the lawns near the main gate, the audience "ooed" and "ahhd" and applauded as Monty put his juniors through their paces with drills that were part javelin and quarterstaff duels and part acrobatic maneuvers. Urthblood watched the exercises with rapt intensity. He seemed thoroughly engrossed by the militaristic exhibition. It was the closest he'd come to having an out-and-out good time that any of the Redwallers had seen so far.

Alexander and his squirrel companion Elmwood walked over to Monty when the proceedings were concluded. "Trying to make us look bad, you old ruddertail?" he asked his otter friend with mock anger. "Grabbing all the glory for yourselves ... I'll bet we squirrels of the Forest Patrol could put on an archery display that would hold Lord Urthblood's attention just as well."

"Betcher could too, ol' chum." Monty was sweaty and breathing hard from his exertions. "But we thought of it first. Now, I'm off fer a splash an' a swim in th' pond. Awful hot in this sun, an' I daresn't offend, eh?" With that, he shot off toward the inviting coolness of the pond and dove in, Winokur and most of the other otters hot on his heels. The two squirrels stood watching them cavort for a bit, showing off their swimming skills for anybeast who cared to watch, or for nobeast at all.

"Elmwood," Alex said.

The other squirrel straightened to attention at the formal tone of command in Alexander's voice. They were old friends and both around the same age, but when Alex asserted his authority as head of the Mossflower Patrol, Elmwood was quick to fall in line. "Yes, sir?"

"Prepare some targets by the gardens, and pass word among the others of the Patrol. After dinner tonight, we'll put on a little show of our own."

"Yessir!"


	4. Chapter 4

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Four

As soon as they were finished ringing the bells for the end of lunch, Cyril and Cyrus rushed down from the bell tower to join Brother Geoff in the archives.

For most of its history, Redwall's historians and recorders had lived in the small cottage by the main gate, and it was in that gatehouse that the Abbey records had been kept. After the war with Cluny's horde, however, old Abbot Mortimer had ordered that the little hut be expanded into a rambling cottage for Redwall's new Warrior, Matthias, and his wife Cornflower. That meant that a new home had had to be found for all the books, scrolls, tablets, parchments, maps, drawings and other assorted odds and ends that comprised the Abbey archives.

For several generations they had been deposited willy-nilly in any unused chambers that could be found, but the solution to this dilemma had lain quite literally under everybeast's nose all along. During an earlier siege by a conquering raven, the moles had devised a network of tunnels under the Abbey's grounds to confound the raven warlord, so that the Redwallers might come and go as they pleased without danger of attack from their winged foe. Once the invading birds had been vanquished and peace restored to the Abbey, the mole crews had improved upon the hastily-built tunnels, properly lining them to make them a permanent part of Redwall.

Since so much work had already gone into the tunnel system, it was little extra effort for the moles of a later generation to dig out and line an additional dead end, spacious enough to hold the entire contents of the archives, plus room for future generations to add to it. This rock-lined chamber now served as the official Redwall library.

Unfortunately, the historical records had never been kept in a particularly orderly manner, even when they'd been stored up in the gatehouse. When Geoff inherited the post of official recorder from his predecessor Brother Trevor, he also inherited quite a disorderly mess to oversee. Most of Redwall's historians had contented themselves with keeping their own journals, and simply let lie all the tangled chaos of what had come before, delving into the past only when a particular bit of historical fact needed to be produced - and then it usually took a heroic effort to find it.

Geoff had sworn to change all that. He was going to make his lifelong work the organizing of the archives into some system that did not hinge upon guesswork, intuition or magic. His goal was to build a library that any Redwaller could use with ease, to access any period of Abbey history without having to dig through disordered masses of scrolls and journals.

The shifting of the archives from the gatehouse to assorted rooms and then to this tunnel hadn't helped matters any. Geoff had been Abbey recorder for several seasons now, yet still he resided over a mayhem of scribblings. His duties as Redwall's teacher had kept him from spending as much time on his pet project as he would have liked, and then of course there were his own journals and diaries that he had to keep current; it wouldn't do at all for future generations to have no records of these times. Foremole had been about to help build a system of racks and partitions that would help bring order to the situation, but then Lord Urthblood had arrived and that project had once more been placed on the backburner.

Geoff sighed and glanced about him. Spacious as they were, the archives were now crowded with the extra table and chairs that had been brought down for Cyril, Cyrus and Winokur. When Urthblood had appeared a short time ago for the items he'd requested, the badger had had to stand at the tunnel entrance while they were passed out to him.

Getting rid of those few pieces had barely made a dent in the vast walls and piles of records. Fortunately, the work Geoff had done that morning and the previous night had paid off; he'd been able to uncover some of the very earliest historical records, a few going all the way back to the days of Martin the Warrior and the Abbess Germaine, when the Abbey had still been under construction. It was there that their search for clues about Urthblood's prophecy would begin.

Geoff held up one bound volume with extreme reverence. "This is the oldest journal I could find," he told the two young mice - Winokur had yet to join them from his midday swim in the pond. "It is written in the ancient script of Loamhedge, of which I understand a little, and seems to have been put down by the Abbess Germaine herself. The paper is quite fragile with age, so I'll keep this one for myself." He set the book down at his place on the table, then turned to a collection of scrolls.

"These parchments date from around the same time, I think, or a little later. They are also quite delicate, so be careful how you unroll them. They are in normal script, so you should have no trouble reading them. Winokur can help you with them, if he ever finishes cavorting in the pond and deigns to join us. That one has a scholarly future ahead of him here at the Abbey, but sometimes I think there's too much otter in him for his own good!"

Cyril and Cyrus laughed. Winokur, a couple of seasons older than Cyril, was a good friend of theirs. They knew he was probably Geoff's best student ... and they also knew what the recorder mouse meant by Winokur having too much otter in him. Sometimes, when the Abbey pond or a jousting companion had beckoned, Winokur had been known to forget all about his schooling and skip class altogether.

"And if anybeast has to sneeze, please ... turn your head away from what you're reading!"

Geoff had very good reason to mention this last bit. When the archive tunnel had first been dug and lined generations ago, there was concern over excessive dampness that might creep through the stones and harm the cloth, paper and bark of the records. The Foremole had solved that problem by coating floor, walls and ceiling with a special chalky powder that kept the chamber quite dry. The downside to this remedy was that the fine dust often agitated the nose if it was inhaled for any length of time. The ancient records had been dusty enough of their own accord; the drying powder only made sneezing all the more likely. And one simply did not sneeze on documents penned by Redwall's most revered figures.

The young brothers had come prepared. Cyril and Cyrus each withdrew a clean white kerchief from their habits and proudly displayed them for Geoff to see. "Fresh from the laundry basket," Cyril proclaimed.

"'though I don't think they'll stay that way for long," Cyrus added, his whiskers already starting to twitch from the dust.

"Well, keep them close at paw, then." Geoff moved one of the table lanterns closer to him and tilted it so that its light shone more directly upon the pages of the ancient journal before him. Adjusting the glasses perched upon the end of his snout, he leaned down toward the open book.

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us, my friends, so let's get reading!"

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Balla was rolling her empty barrel around the Abbey grounds, looking for a good spot for it. Scrubbed clean of its sticky strawberry juice residue, the oversized cask was now ready to be used as a rain collector. It was just a matter of finding the right place for it ...

A shadow passing over her made the hedgehog cellarkeeper stop and look up. Wincing through the bright afternoon sky glare, Balla could make out the shape of a large bird of prey, winging its way north over the Abbey.

Balla fought her first impulse to run for cover. Before she'd settled at Redwall, she'd spent her early childhood living in the wilds of southern Mossflower, and woodland creatures had to develop a healthy respect for predators if they wanted to reach old age. But no hunter would dare to attack within the sanctuary of Redwall, in case it might someday require refuge or healing from the Abbey for itself. Balla shook off her case of nerves and was about to resume rolling her barrel, when something made her glance skyward again.

The bird dipped lower as it neared the north wall. For a moment it seemed about to alight upon the battlements, but it cleared the walltop and then was gone.

Balla scrunched up her eyes, rubbing at them with both paws. She could have sworn ... No, it must have been the summer sun, making her see things that weren't there. No wild bird would be wearing armor. It was impossible. Balla put her head down and went back to pushing the barrel across the lawns.

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Meanwhile, across the Abbey grounds, Winokur was hauling himself out of the pond and shaking the water from his fur in preparation for joining Brother Geoff, Cyril and Cyrus down in the archives. Bidding his fellow otters farewell until dinnertime, Winokur sauntered toward the main Abbey, but was stopped by a somewhat unusual sight. Three of the Abbey youngsters - Balla's nephew Droge, along with Cuffy the dormouse and Padgett the mole - stood in the middle of the lawns, necks craned as they gazed to the heavens with paws to brows. Their wooden swords, a requirement for playing the favorite game of "Martin the Warrior," hung limply at their sides, and that was the strange thing. Redwall's children were an energetic lot, and Droge moreso than most, so it was out of the ordinary to see them so still.

Winokur was popular with the Abbey children, and paused to kneel alongside the rapt trio to investigate. He addressed them in the more traditional otter jargon that he knew they found entertaining. "Ahoy there, me liddle buckos! Wot're we lookin' at?"

Droge, the unspoken leader of any gang he happened to be in, pointed straight up. "There's a big bird up there!"

"Oh?" Winokur followed their gazes, screwing up his eyes against the sky's brightness. Sure enough, there was a bird circling high over the Abbey. And not just any bird. It was a big one, surely a bird of prey, and quite possibly dangerous, especially to creatures as small as his current companions. The young otter glanced about the grounds. Balla was off in the distance, working with a barrel, and beyond that, by the gardens, Alexander and Elmwood were busy setting up a line of archery targets near the gardens. Winokur was reassured that there were other able beasts nearby he could call on for help in case the bird attacked, and decided to stay with the children for awhile, to see what this unknown visitor to their airspace would bring.

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Balla, Winokur and the children were not the only ones to notice the circling raptor. As the bird's shadow chased and danced across the Abbey grounds, Alexander and Elmwood glanced up to see it, as did Monty and several of the other otters still lounging in or by the pond.

Soon a small crowd was gathered on the lawn, necks thrown back and paws to their eyes as they strained against the summer brightness to get a better view of the mysterious winged stranger. Even Vanessa and Arlyn came out to join the spectators.

"What do you make of it, Alexander?" the Abbess asked. The squirrels had the sharpest vision of all the assembled beasts.

"I'm not sure. I thought at first it might be a kite, but it's more like a brown falcon, though it's hard to be certain with the sun's glare."

"Has it threated or tried to attack anybeast?" Arlyn asked with concern.

"No, it's just been circling, sometimes low, sometimes high like it is now," Alex replied.

"Reckon there's more'n one?" Winokur supposed. "That bird stayin' over us could just be a diversion."

"A diversion for what?" asked Vanessa.

Winokur shrugged. "Dunno. Just wondrin' aloud, is all."

"Haven't seen signs of any others," said Alex. "It seems to be alone."

They all stood in silence for awhile, studying the newcomer. As they watched it swooped lower, although it was still well above the Abbey roof peaks.

Keen-eyed Alexander broke the silence. "You know, I could swear that bird's wearing something over its breast. A jerkin, or a tunic ... "

"Yes, I thought I noticed that myself," echoed Vanessa. "But I thought I was seeing things."

Balla put in, "Thought it was armor, myself, when I first saw it flying low over the north wall."

"Maybe we should try to contact it," Vanessa suggested. "I wonder if the Sparra know anything about this? I haven't seen Highwing since breakfast. Perhaps we could get one of our sparrows to fly up and ask it what it wants." There was a special signal the Redwallers could sound on the Matthias and Methuselah bells that would summon the sparrows down from Warbeak Loft in time of need.

"I don't know if we should trouble our Sparra friends about this just yet," Arlyn said. "If it wants anything of us, it'll fly down here to let us know."

"Unless it's scared," Alex speculated. "There is quite a crowd of us here, and we Redwallers do have a reputation for defending ourselves well against all threats."

"It has been many, many seasons since we've had to fight off an enemy," old Arlyn countered. "Not even in my lifetime has the sword of Martin been used in battle."

"Well, it wants something," Balla said. "Wouldn't be hangin' about like that if'n it didn't."

"Maybe it's injured," Vanessa ventured.

"A hurt creature t'wouldn't be soaring about all over the sky," Balla objected.

"What if it's hurt in the leg?" Elmwood suggested. "Then it could fly all it wanted but it wouldn't land ... just like it's doing now."

"Hey, that's good thinkin'!" Monty clapped the squirrel on the back.

"Elmwood may be right." Vanessa turned to the hedgehog cellarkeeper. "Balla, would you please run down to the archives and tell Geoff that he'll have to spare Cyril and Cyrus for a few minutes? I want to signal the Sparra, and they're the only ones skilled enough on the bells to ring the proper sequence."

"On my way," Balla said with her usual gruffness, and made for the Abbey. Going in, she passed Lord Urthblood, who was just walking out onto the lawns. The badger warrior was alone, and stopped to look at all the Redwallers who were gazing skyward.

"Am I missing something interesting?" he rumbled in his deep voice.

"Just a falcon in armor," Alexander said half-jokingly.

Urthblood followed their gazes until he sighted the bird for himself. "Ah, that would be Klystra. Excuse me a moment."

Before his words had even registered on the Redwallers, Urthblood was striding across the lawn toward the west wall. He rapidly ascended the wall stairs up to the ramparts, and took up a position on the highest point above the main gate. Unsheathing his mighty sword, he held it straight out over his head and twirled it in slow circles, once, twice, three times. The sun glinting off the blade's edges and his crimson armor must have been visible halfway across the Western Plains.

Urthblood sheathed his weapon and stood still as stone, gaze fixed upon the aerial visitor, waiting. He did not have to wait for long.

The giant bird dropped toward him like a rock. The watching Redwallers gasped in alarm. The winged hunter's power dive seemed designed to crash into the badger and hurl him from the heights of the walltop. But at the last moment it executed an impressive breaking maneuver and alighted smoothly upon the crenellated stone battlements alongside Urthblood.

"Well, I'll be ... " muttered Arlyn, with similar pronouncements from several of the others.

"Never seen anything fly like that before," Alexander remarked.

The badger and the falcon - which was indeed wearing a heavy sleeveless breast tunic, unheard of for a bird - appeared to have gone into a rapidfire conference with each other.

"It would seem they are acquainted," Vanessa said, dryly stating the obvious.

Moments later, the falcon took off once more, winging its way north until it was lost to view. Urthblood descended the wall steps to rejoin the Redwallers. To their amazement, he walked right past them and seemed about to reenter the Abbey without so much as a word of explanation.

"Uh ... My Lord," Vanessa called after him. "Could you please enlighten us as to what all that was about?"

Urthblood stopped and turned back toward the Abbess. "That was Klystra, a Captain of my forces. He bore reports of the fighting to the north. It has gone well this day."

"Fighting?" Arlyn asked with unease.

Urthblood nodded. "A band of crows and ravens who fancied themselves warlords and conquerers were causing no small amount of misery. My fighters engaged them on the northern fringes of Mossflower, several day's march from here. Those villains will trouble goodbeasts no more."

"You have fighters, here in Mossflower?" Vanessa inquired of Urthblood, most surprised by this revelation.

"Far to the north, quite some distance from Redwall. Some of my more loyal followers traveled south with me for part of the journey, although the bulk of my forces remain in the true Northlands to keep order there as best they can in my absence."

"Well, how many are now near Mossflower? Should we expect to see them here at Redwall?"

"They may make their way here, in time," replied Urthblood. "Klystra and his brethren will keep me appraised of their movements. I cannot give an exact number, since they may divide along different routes according to any opposition they meet, and some may turn back north. But I should be able to give you a day or two's notice if they come on toward Redwall, so that you can make ready to receive them."

This had been Vanessa's main concern. "We'd appreciate that, My Lord. Tired and hungry warriors should have a proper welcome, and that takes time. Also, if there are injuries among any of your creatures, Sister Aurelia can prepare the Infirmary for them."

Urthblood nodded his appreciation. "Also, a storm is blowing in from the east. A very strong one. It should arrive before sundown."

Several of the Redwallers looked up at the cloudless expanse of azure sky. There was neither sight nor scent of any trace hint on the hot summer afternoon air that bad weather might be bearing down on them.

Arlyn's nose wrinkled and his whiskers twitched as the gave the windless air a good long sniff. "Are you sure, My Lord?" he asked. "I can't detect any signs of a change in the weather, and I'm usually pretty good about such things."

"That he is," Vanessa affirmed of her elderly predecessor. "So am I, and I can't feel a thing that says a storm is coming. Not a cloud in the sky, either."

The Badger Lord was impassive. "Klystra is never wrong about such matters. A storm is coming. I have given you warning. What you do with that information is up to you." Urthblood turned and went inside, leaving the Redwallers wondering at both his attitude and his forecast.

00000000000

Moments later, Balla emerged from the main Abbey building, bustling before her the two bellringers she'd been sent to fetch. Cyril and Cyrus looked positively ghostly, coated as they were by the chalky drying powder of the archives. Children and adults alike had to laugh at the sight.

"Sorry to have pulled you away from your work with Brother Geoff," Vanessa said, surpressing her chuckles, "but we won't be needing your bellringing talents after all. We were able to solve this mystery without calling on the Sparra. You two can get back to what you were doing, since I can see, ah, er, um, that you were quite immersed in it." Unable to contain herself any longer, Vanessa began to giggle like a little schoolmouse.

Balla was not so amused. "You mean I ran all the way down to those musty old archives fer naught? Why, what happened? What was with that bird?"

"Turned out it was one of Lord Urthblood's captains," Alexander explained, and told Balla about how the badger had called Klystra down to get the falcon's reports on fighting to the north of Mossflower, and the approaching storm. The hedgehog was as incredulous as anybeast about the last part.

"Storm? Not if'n you ask me. Can't feel it in my spikes, an' I allers do. That featherbag must be mistaken."

"Well, we'll know soon," said Vanessa. "Lord Urthblood told us it would come before sundown, and that's only a few hours away." She looked down at Cyril and Cyrus. "If we do get a storm, it might be good for you two. You could stand out in the rain to wash away all that dust. Geoff too, if I know him!"

The Redwallers began laughing anew at the two white-dusted, forlorn-looking mouse brothers. Cyril grinned, then joined in on the mirth. Cyrus merely sneezed.


	5. Chapter 5

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Five

For the next two hours, the deceptive calm of a sunny summer afternoon held sway. When the storm hit, it crept up secretly and low to the ground like a hunter stalking its prey. But it did not catch the good creatures of Redwall completely off guard.

Maura was walking a group of the Abbey children along the ramparts around the walltops, giving them some exercise and fresh air, as well as a chance to expend some of their youthful energy that might otherwise run her ragged.

As their line snaked its way over the eastern wall, Maura happened to glance out over the fastness of Mossflower Woods. But it was what she saw on the distant horizon above the treetops that made her stop dead in her tracks, and her young charges with her.

"By all my seasons!" she exclaimed, staring at the ominous black cloudbanks that were rearing up into the sky and rolling toward Redwall. The afternoon around her was still bright and sunny, and nobeast down on the Abbey grounds could possibly have guessed that something so evil was visible from up here.

"That old falcon of Urthblood's was right! Storm's on its way, and it looks like a monster!"

Several of the youngbeasts cowered at the mention of a monster storm, but the irrepressible Droge was excited by this news. The young hedgehog jumped so he could latch his paws onto the stonework of the battlements and peer up and out over the walltop.

"Wow!" he said with unbridled enthusiasm. "It looks like the end of the world!"

"Down from there, you spiny troublemaker!" Maura turned to address the whole group. "Listen, we're the first ones to see this, and we've got to let the rest of the Abbey know. By the way it's moving, that storm will be here in less than an hour. We'll go down the east wall steps over there, carefully so that nobeast falls. When we're down, I want each of you to go find an adult, and tell them a bad storm's coming. Can we all do this?"

The Redwall children all nodded obediently. When Maura took charge like this, there was nothing to be afraid of, and no thought of being disobedient. Even Droge fell sharply into step as she herded them down the tall flight of stone stairs to the lawn below.

She escorted them as far as the door into Great Hall, except for Cuffy the dormouse who saw his father working in the orchard and raced off to him. The rest Maura ushered into the Abbey building, where she instructed them to scatter and raise the alarm about the approaching storm. Hopefully most would obey, although they were children after all. The important thing had been getting them safely indoors before the tempest arrived. If they were less than diligent about performing the task assigned them, well, Maura could raise the alarm perfectly well on her own. All she'd have to do was find Vanessa, or Arlyn, or Monty or Alexander, or any of the Abbey leaders ...

She paused before the threshold. She'd been about to go inside when the bell tower caught her eye. Maura contemplated it for a few moments, then shrugged to herself and started toward the tall structure.

"How hard can it be?" she mused aloud.

00000000000

Bong!

All over the Abbey, creatures who had not been alerted by the children stopped in the middle of what they were doing and looked up at the sound of the Matthias bell. Even old Arlyn stirred from his afternoon nap, and poked his head out his gatehouse cottage door. It was widely known that no temporary bellringers had been assigned to replace Cyril and Cyrus. Furthermore, it was not an hour at which the bells should have been tolling. And since the bells were traditionally used to sound warnings as well as celebrate joyous occasions, every Redwaller was trained from infancy to heed their melodious calling, day or night.

A few of the adults did know what was going on, thanks to the young messengers Maura had dispatched. But most were mystified, and went to look out a window or go outside to find out who was ringing the bells, and why.

00000000000

Boom! Bong!

The Methuselah bell now joined its voice to its companion.

Maura stood up in the belfrey, one bell rope grasped in each massive paw. She knew the ringing sequence for a storm alarm and she was pretty sure she could toll it out herself, once she got things going.

But it turned out to be trickier than she'd imagined. Each bell had its own feel as it swung upon its axle, and the delay between pulling on the rope and actually producing a sound made it difficult to coordinate the twin bells.

Her size and strength gave her an advantage. No other beast at Redwall could have rung both bells at once by itself. Since they were both under her control, Maura was soon able to get into the rhythm of pulling and pealing, and she began to toll out the warning that would alert the Abbey that a storm was on the way.

00000000000

Old Arlyn was waiting for Maura outside the bell tower when she came down. He greeted her with a wry smile of amusement.

"A war alarm, Maura? I didn't know Redwall was under attack."

The badger's face fell. "Oh dear, did I really? I could've sworn I was ringing out a storm warning."

Arlyn shook his head. "You had the half-tones reversed during the second part of the sequence. Still, though, that was pretty impressive for such an impromptu performance. Do we get an encore?"

"That depends upon the audience reviews." Maura was looking past him toward the Abbey. A group headed by Abbess Vanessa was hastening their way. "I hope I haven't caused too much trouble by sounding the wrong alarm."

Arlyn regarded the oncoming Abbeydwellers. "They don't look armed for war to me."

Vanessa came right up to them. "Maura, was that you on the bells?"

"Under them, actually," Maura hastily explained. "There's a storm on the way, I saw it from the walltop, and I wanted to sound the alarm, and I thought I could do it myself, only now Arlyn tells me the sequence wasn't right, and I was off a bit, and it ended up sounding like a war alarm, and - "

Vanessa held up both her paws. "Maura, please, before you wind yourself! We know it was a storm warning, the young ones told us. You're to be commended. Now we'll have plenty of time to prepare, thanks to you!"

Alexander, standing behind the Abbess, nodded. "Yes, I'd say we've found our new bellringer."

"With a little more practice," Arlyn playfully chided.

"Come on, everybeast!" Vanessa clapped her paws sharply. "We've got work to do, before the wind blows up and the rain starts to fall." She began issuing instructions to her fellow Redwallers to make preparations.

Even now the first clouds were visible over the east wall, and a cool breeze had begun to stir the warm afternoon air.

Leaving the groundswork to others, Maura made for the Abbey. There were the young ones to look after and keep out of their parents' way. And if this storm turned out half as bad as it had looked from the walltop, there would surely be many frightened infants who would need her comforting paw in the night to come.

00000000000

Alexander and his squirrels never did get to display their archery skills after that evening's meal.

By the time dinner rolled around, a heavy, wind-driven rain was pelting the Abbey and its grounds, saturating the gardens, orchard and lawns and making it unsafe to venture outdoors. The frequent flashes of lightning were so bright that they could be seen even down in Cavern Hole beneath Great Hall, and the booming crashes of thunder were enough to set pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. Outside on the eastern lawn, Alexander's archery targets stood unused and abandoned, getting drenched by the downpour.

The storm had also brought with it a drastic drop in temperature. The hot summer afternoon quickly became a distant memory as an almost autumnal chill blew in on the winds. Many Redwallers hastened to wrap extra cloaks or shawls around themselves and the youngsters, while some traded their light summer garb altogether for the heavier clothing of colder seasons.

The dinner table benches in Great Hall were packed that night. This grand gathering space of Redwall was easily large enough to seat all hundred and some-odd creatures who currently called the Abbey home, with plenty of room to spare. Extra torches were lit around the walls and sandstone columns to help chase away the dispiriting gloom of the early, storm-induced twilight.

Abbess Vanessa led the assemblage in an offering of thanks for Redwall's plenty, and then everybeast promptly tucked in. The main course was a thick vegetable stew with dumplings, and side salads of radish, leek or beetroot, according to each creature's taste. There were also loaves of spicebread and acorn muffins with blackcurrant jam and - at the insistance of Droge and his young followers - a selection of puddings for dessert, topped by Friar Hugh's delectable blend of honey-sweetened whipped cream. Balla and Monty made sure there was plenty of Octoble ale and elderberry wine for all, with clear cool water and the leftover strawberry cordial for the young ones.

When dinner was winding down and everybeast had had its fill (except for Monty, who was filling his plate for the third time), Alexander said to Urthblood, "Nights like this are made for the telling of stories. Share some tales or songs with us, My Lord. You must have many, after all your travels and adventures."

Others nearby leaned forward, ears pricked up, eager to hear what the badger warrior would come up with.

But Urthblood cast his gaze toward Maura, who'd spent the better part of dinnertime making rounds throughout Great Hall, comforting all the younger children who were scared of the storm. Several times, lightning had flashed so brightly and thunder had exploded so loudly that the peak of Redwall most surely had been struck. Even now, a cluster of young ones skirted Maura around her bench, afraid to stray too far from the badger Mother of Redwall.

"Alas, those are rough tales to tell, and I would not speak of such things with females and children about. This weather has caused enough fright, and I would not add to that mood with tales of dread and misery that would be hard to take even in the full light of day."

Urthblood turned to Brother Geoff, who'd reluctantly taken off from his archival search to join his fellow Abbeydwellers for dinner. "As guest here, I would request that we look instead to a tale of Redwall itself. I was reading in my room this afternoon of the climb your hero Matthias made up to the roofspaces in his quest for the lost sword of Martin. I would like to hear more of that adventure, if you can embellish it further."

Several gazes at the table lifted to the ceiling high overhead. This was a tale well known to nearly every Redwaller.

Geoff cleared his throat. "Erhem. Ah, well, since I'm the historian here and probably better acquainted with that episode of our history than anybeast here, I suppose I'll start. Oh, but it makes my head dizzy just thinking of that climb! How Matthias did it I'll never know."

"He was a warrior," Urthblood said simply. "In time of need, a warrior knows no fear."

"Perhaps. But Matthias was a warrior without a weapon, and the horde of Cluny the Scourge had Redwall under siege. Clues hidden all around the Abbey told Matthias that Martin's sword could be found on the weathervane, up on the highest roof peak. This was before the sparrows had become our allies, and the Sparra leader was quite mad and very dangerous. When it was discovered that the sword was no longer on the weathervane and that the Sparra had most likely stolen it, Matthias was left no choice but to climb up to their court under the high roofspaces to confront them and try to get it back."

Geoff squinted toward the high part of the wall above the gallery, then pointed. "If your eyesight is very keen - as mine was in my youth but, alas, is no more - you might be able to make out the opening in the stonework, which is where Matthias emerged from the attic over the dormitories. That was as high as he could get from the upper dorm level, and the drop from there to this floor would kill any beast. Yet as you can see - uh, can you see, My Lord? ah, good - as you can see, that's only about halfway to the ceiling of Great Hall. From there Matthias had to climb along stone ledges, up along one of the roof arches to the highest window casement, and from there to a trapdoor into the roofspaces under the highest peak." Geoff shuddered. "That surely must have been as great a challenge for young Matthias as it was to actually face Cluny himself in battle!"

"And at the end of his climb, he still had to face the hostile Sparra?"

"Yes," Geoff nodded. "Those must have been harrowing times, and if the spirit of Martin had not been strong within Matthias and helped to guide and protect him, Redwall might have been lost. But Matthias made a good friend in King Bull Sparra's niece Warbeak, who became queen after her uncle was killed. Thanks to her, the Sparra became true and faithful allies to Matthias and his son Mattimeo during their time as Abbey Champions."

"Very true." The Abbess glanced up at the ceiling. "And that friendship was rekindled in my own youth by Highwing, who now rules the Sparra of Warbeak Loft. Our feathered friends can't be enjoying this storm very much. I do hope they're all right up there. A couple of those lightning strikes sounded like they must have hit the roof."

"They heard Maura's storm bells," Alexander assured her. "They chose to ride out the storm up in Warbeak Loft. I'm sure they'll be fine. Redwall has weathered many storms before this."

"It would seem to me," Urthblood commented in his casual rumble, "that there should be some easy way to access the roof spaces from inside the Abbey. I would call that a rather serious design flaw by those who planned Redwall."

"So you said this morning in the bell tower," Alexander responded. Others, who had not heard of the Badger Lord's earlier criticism of their Abbey's hallowed founders, bristled a bit at this off-the-paw remark from the grim warrior. On the other paw, Urthblood had a very good point.

"Well, nothing to be done about it now," Vanessa said with forced cheerfulness. "We woodlanders live in the lower parts of Redwall, and we trust to the Sparra to look after the roofspaces. That arrangement has served us well for many seasons now."

"Yes, but what if you had to visit the Sparra in their Loft?" Urthblood pressed. "Is somebeast going to make the same dangerous climb that Matthias made all those seasons ago? And when the raven General Ironbeak tried to conquer Redwall, he took over the roofspaces and could attack you from there at will, but there was no way for you to strike back at him. Would it not have been better if you could have taken the battle to him?"

"My, you have been studying our histories," Geoff said, impressed.

"What would you have us do?" Vanessa said rather more testily than she'd intended, fixing Urthblood with a searching and somewhat critical gaze of expectation. She did not seriously expect an answer.

The Badger Lord reached into a space in his breast armor and withdrew a sheet of paper. "Here is one possible solution ... an idea I was toying with this afternoon. I worked up a few rough sketches. We could build a staircase from Great Hall to Warbeak Loft."

Vanessa took the sheet from Urthblood and studied it. Immediately her fellow Redwallers sidled over to her on the bench or came around to stand behind her, curious to view the sketch over her shoulder. Proper dinner manners were suspended for the moment as creatures crowded their Abbess to see this for themselves.

The drawing that Urthblood had tossed out as little more than a doodle proved instead to be a highly detailed architectural rendering, complete with notes, measurements, and scale references. It depicted, unmistakably, an enclosed, winding staircase rising from the floor of Great Hall to the highest roofspaces in a single unbroken spiral of steps.

Vanessa exhaled in disbelief. "Is such a thing possible?"

"One way to find out," said old Abbot Arlyn, scanning the faces around the tables until he spotted the one he sought. "Hullo, Foremole! Come over here, please. We have a matter that requires your expertise."

The squat digger excused himself from his place at table with his customary mole politeness and waddled across to where his Abbess sat. "Ho hurr, 'ow can oi be o' 'elp, gennelbeasts?"

"Lord Urthblood has proposed a most impressive undertaking." Vanessa passed the sketch to Foremole. "You're our expert at such things. Tell us what you think of this."

Foremole took a gander at the plans. After a moment, once he realized what he was looking at, his nearly-invisible button eyes widened to twice their normal size ... which was quite comical to behold.

"Huuurrzzuurwuuu ... " Foremole glanced up from the sketch toward the end of Great Hall where the plans placed the stairs, then back down at the paper. He repeated this motion several times. "Boi okey, oi'm a-seein' et but oi doant berlieve et. Starway t'eaven, hurr hurr."

"You think it can be built?" Vanessa asked.

"Burr, doant see no reasern whoi not. 'ee archertekshual theory's sound enuff. But oi wuddn't want t'be th' beast that builds it. Uz molers doant be moighty fond o' gurt 'oights, no zurr."

"The stairs would be enclosed by their own well wall and anchored to the main wall of Great Hall," Urthblood said, "so there wouldn't be much danger of workerbeasts fallings during construction."

Vanessa was uncertain. "Such a project would require much time and great effort from many Redwallers. Are you sure it's really necessary, My Lord?"

"You are the ones who have lived here for generations without it. Only you can say. But you have engaged me to help you with matters of defense, and from that standpoint, I would strongly urge that the stairs be built."

Urthblood repositioned himself so he could point at the plans in Foremole's claws. "You'll notice the design calls for a door at the top that can be locked from either side. If your roofspaces should ever again fall to enemy warbirds, you could lock them out from below and deny them access to the Abbey proper. By the same token, if an enemy horde were ever to breach the Abbey walls, your children and old ones could take refuge with the Sparra in Warbeak Loft while the fighting goes on below. There is room to store enough provisions up there to last out a siege of a season or more."

Old Arlyn shook his head. "I don't know. Speaking as one of the 'old ones,' I sure wouldn't want to be stuck up there with no way down if the lower Abbey were to fall to an enemy. Seems to me it would just be a matter of time before they'd break through and have us at their mercy."

"The positioning of the door at the top of the staircase would make it very awkward to employ a battering ram or any other tools of force to open it," Urthblood said. "If food supplies ran low during a prolonged siege, the Sparra could forage outside the Abbey for restocks. You must learn to use your birds to their full potential; they are a most important resource. Rain barrels under the eaves would keep water in supply in all but the driest seasons. In battle, it is very important to have options. These stairs would provide Redwall with options it does not have now."

Vanessa was still doubtful. "I have great friendship with the Sparra, and I more than anybeast would welcome a way to visit them in Warbeak Loft. I just can't help wondering whether these stairs would be worth all the work of building them."

"I can only give you the benefit of my warrior's counsel," Urthblood said to the Abbey leaders around him. "The final decision in such matters must of course be yours."

"In this case," said Vanessa, "not just ours alone. The Sparra must be consulted as well. It wouldn't do at all for us to just pop out of their court floor one day and say, 'Surprise!' They must also approve of these stairs before we can even consider building them."

Another flash of lightning lit up Great Hall through the high stained glass windows. The crack of thunder that came with it was earsplitting, the sound of the very air being rent asunder followed by a boom that made bones vibrate in their flesh. Several of the children squealed in fright and huddled closer around Maura.

Montybank looked up from his fourth plateful without missing a beat in his chewing. "Another direct him, by me rudder," he opined around a mouthful of damson and apple pudding.

Vanessa shook her head. "Those poor sparrows. I don't envy them on a night like this. I do hope none of them have been injured."

"Keep in mind," Urthblood commented, "the stairs I proposed would serve them as well. If there were such a thing in place now, the Sparra could descend to the safety of Great Hall without having to fly out in this dangerous wind and rain."

This gave the Redwallers pause. Perhaps a staircase to Warbeak Loft would be a worthwhile undertaking after all. As Urthblood had pointed out, he'd come to Redwall to offer his advice on improving the Abbey's defenses. They'd have to give serious consideration to his proposal, and make a decision only after they'd discussed it thoroughly amongst themselves. That was the Redwall way.

Outside, the fierce summer storm raged on.


	6. Chapter 6

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Six

The rain kept up all night, and showed no signs of abating as the gray, soggy summer morning broke over Mossflower.

A somber breakfast was taken in Great Hall, followed a few hours later by an even more somber lunch. Nobeast could remember the last time it had rained so hard for so long. There was much concern that the gardens might suffer damage from the prolonged deluge with its high winds, and that crops would be lost.

It was hardest for the Abbey children, for whom not being able to go outside was just about the worst punishment that nature could have provided. Maura certainly had her paws full that day; when she wasn't traversing the tunnels to the bell tower and climbing the stairs to sound the dreary day's various tollings, she was chasing around after restless youngbeasts who were trying to have the hallowed halls of Redwall make do for the open outside places they couldn't go.

Come evening, everybeast gathered in Great Hall for their second rain-bound supper in as many nights. The main course was supplied by the moles. Since the nasty weather was keeping them from their usual groundswork and they had so much time on their heavy digging claws, they'd descended upon Friar Hugh's kitchens and spent all afternoon cooking up a trio of their famous deeper 'n' ever vegetable pies. When everybeast sat down around the dinner tables, Foremole made a special point of seating himself near Lord Urthblood and piling up the Badger Lord's plate personally.

"'ere y'go, zurr," Foremole said, dishing out a portion to Urthblood that even Montybank might have choked upon, "noice 'n' 'ot, jus' ee way et's s'posed t'be, not loik ee leftovers you'm 'ad two noights ago. Oi'm shure you'm loik et, zurr."

"My thanks," Urthblood nodded, seeming to have no difficulty understanding the rustic molespeech. He took the plate and proceeded to tuck into the steaming, gravy-oozing slice of pie. Seeing that their honored guest had been properly served, the others dove in themselves ... Monty almost literally.

As the meal went on, Vanessa and Geoff made conversation by asking Urthblood how he was enjoying his stay at Redwall.

"Your hospitality is of course without fault," the badger warrior rumbled amiably, "but I am not here to enjoy myself. After this meal, before the daylight fails altogether, I should want to go out to tour the grounds and visit the walltop."

Everybeast within hearing of this statement was dumbfounded. Vanessa and Geoff traded a brows-raised glance, not sure they'd heard correctly. "Go outside?" the Abbess said. "In this weather?"

"A leader must be willing to endure the same hardships as those he commands. It would not be fair for your sentries to subject themselves to this rain unless we are willing to share their burden." Urthblood's eyes narrowed at the two mice. "You do have lookouts posted on the walltop, do you not?"

"At nearly all times," said Vanessa.

"But not today?"

"Today?" She laughed, incredulous. "My Lord, be reasonable! You can't expect a creature to stand guard out in a storm such as this."

"But that is precisely what I expect, Abbess. The enemies of peace travel by day and by night, in every kind of weather. If you have nobeast standing watch right now, there could be an enemy horde assembled outside your gates at this very moment." The great badger heaved an exasperated sigh. "I have offered you my counsel in improving Redwall's defenses. Once again, I find the security of this Abbey wanting."

Montybank, Alexander and old Arlyn joined Vanessa and Geoff in staring at Urthblood in stunned silence. "Now, My Lord," Arlyn said, "I hardly think you're being fair ... "

"Fair?" Urthblood lanced each of them in turn with his gaze of steel. "I came to Redwall to warn you of a crisis that could break upon us at any moment and throw the lands into greater tumolt than any they have ever known. What must I say or do to convince you to take my prophecy seriously?"

An abashed silence met his question. Both Vanessa and Arlyn felt they ought to protest Urthblood's harsh assessment. But how could they, when he had offered to venture out into the wind and rain himself for their benefit? If this seasoned warrior saw need for such a thing, then who were they - who had never known war in their lifetimes - to naysay him?

Montybank jumped into the awkward silence, shattering it with his ebullient manner. "Aw, nothin' t' get our rudders all outta whack about, is there? This badger fella's right, an' that's all there is to it. Soon as I'm finished tuckin' inta this tuck, Alex an' me'll get t'gether an' knock out a sentry duty rotation fer everybeast at Redwall, so's we can have walltop lookouts at all times. Me 'n' me otters can take th' watches in rough seas like this, since a liddle rain don't bother us one flick of a whisker. Ain't that right, Wink lad?"

Winokur, seated at an adjacent table, looked uncertain. "Um, but I'm helping Brother Geoff down in the archives, Montybank sir."

"Huh? Oh, well, o' course you are! You'll be excused, since yore helpin' get us ready fer this great crisis in yer own way. But the rest o' us waterdogs will be out standin' our first watch before darkness falls. An' then Alex an' his squirrels can take over when the rain clears up. Ain't that so, Alex matey?"

"Uh, sure, Monty." Alexander could not work up the enthusiasm to match his longtime companion's. Like most of the other Redwall leaders around the tables, he was still stinging from Urthblood's criticism of the Abbey's preparedness, moreso since he was the chief of the Mossflower Patrol and as such was largely responsible for keeping the security not only of Redwall but this entire region.

Urthblood abruptly changed subject, saying to Vanessa, "Have you reached any decision yet about my proposal for that staircase up to Warbeak Loft?"

"Uh, no, we haven't, My Lord. We haven't had a chance to consult with the Sparra yet. We'll do so, as soon as it stops raining."

She glanced up toward the stained glass windows, where the heavy drops still spattered loudly against the multi-hued panes, creating a ceaseless background drumming all throughout Great Hall.

"If it ever does," she added, almost to herself.

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The rain continued to fall through the night, and the second straight dismal morning dawned over Redwall and mossflower Woods. Breakfast was a gloomy affair in spite of the extra torches and the plentitude of hot, fresh, aromatic breads and cakes. It was as if the very forces of nature were conspiring to cast a dark mantle of doom over Redwall, and dampen the spirit of the Abbey itself.

Not even Montybank was on paw to lighten the mood. True to his word, he and Alexander had devised a sentry schedule after the previous night's dinner. Afterwards, he and his otters had begun taking the first of their soggy watches. But Redwall was home to relatively few otters, the only creatures designed for standing guard in heavy rain. Most of them were either still out on the walltop or resting from the shift they'd put in overnight. Monty was never a beast to miss a meal, and the fact that he was absent from breakfast showed that Lord Urthblood's criticism had stung him far more than his outward joviality let on.

The Abbey lawns were thoroughly sodden from the two solid days of rain, and large muddy puddles had formed all throughout the orchard. The pond had risen far above its banks and flooded well onto the lawns, much to the delight of the fish and shrimp who lived in it. But it was the state of the gardens that was most worrisome, for that was where the Abbey got much of its food. Some of the crop was sure to have been destroyed, in spite of the protective measures that had been taken just before the storm hit.

Just as some of the woodlanders were beginning to think they'd never see the sun again, the rain slacked off and the clouds thinned. Shortly before lunchtime, patches of glorious blue sky could be seen through the clouds over Mossflower, and shifting shafts of sunlight stabbed down across the dark forest canopy. Up on the ramparts, Monty and his otters were rewarded for their long and soggy vigil by the sight of a rainbow arching high above the Abbey. It flickered and shimmered in and out of existence for some moments, then the brightening sunlight solidified it into a spectral display of wondrous proportions. The sight raised a hearty cheer from Monty's crew.

In his room on the top dormitory floor, Urthblood glanced up from the Abbey chronicle he was reading and looked out the window to see the last shredded vestiges of the storm racing westward, toward Salamandastron and the open sea.

Soon the lawns were full of rejoicing Redwallers, adults as unabashed in their glee as were the young ones. Paws and sandals quickly grew wet and muddy, but nobeast could care about that when the sunny, blue, rainbow-crossed sky was to be seen above. Maura rushed to ring the bells to announce both the midday meal and the end of the storm.

The only creatures at Redwall not immediately aware of this change for the better were the four toiling away in a tunnel end deep below the Abbey, delving into the past for some possible clue to Redwall's future ...

00000000000

Cyrus sneezed .. again.

Cyril glanced aside at his younger brother. "Nice catch, Cy."

"Uh, thanks." Cyrus finished wiping his snout and replaced his kerchief in his habit pocket. He left one corner sticking out so he could produce it again in a hurry should another sneeze come upon him ... as it no doubt would before too long.

Brother Geoff and Winokur the otter watched the explosive nasal display long enough to satisfy themselves that their youngest helper hadn't soiled any of the Abbey records, then went back to reading their own chronicles.

Cyril sat resting his chin in one paw while he twirled a dry stylus in the other. This was their third day down in the Abbey archives, and the novelty of the project had long since worn off for the older mouse brother.

Cyril had expected some great treasury of tales to be opened to him, some passage to world that would excite his newfound interest in warrior matters. Instead, the Abbey chronicles had turned out to be mostly a record of the unextraordinary. Redwall had known peace for nearly all its long history. The records were an endless list of routine births and passings, observations on the weather, marriages, changes of Seasons, celebrations, notes on visitors to the Abbey ... every detail of the humdrum comings and goings of the most unexceptional of creatures. In short, life at Redwall in the past had been, with few exceptions, very much as it was today.

This disappointing discovery had sent Cyril into a spiral of boredom. He would have asked Geoff to excuse him from this chore, if he weren't afraid of offending the historian.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd uncovered at least some small clue of what they were looking for, but so far they had found nothing. Three days of effort had barely scratched the surface of these vast archives. There were enough documents here to keep all four of them searching for seasons!

It also didn't help knowing that the weather up above ground was so gloomy and depressing. Even though the archive tunnel was totally shut off from the world outside, the lingering storm seemed to have reached down into the chamber, making its enclosed spaces seem more oppressive. Every time one of them ventured up to Great Hall or to the dormitories, only to be met by more of the clouds and rain, that made it all the harder to return to the confines of the archives where the sun never shone. It was like they brought a little bit of the storm back with them each time, weighing down the mood even more.

It never occurred to Cyril that Brother Geoff and Winokur - and perhaps even his own brother Cyrus - were truly engrossed in their inspection of the histories, and were not feeling the kind of restlessness that he was.

Cyril's openly listless attitude did not go unnoticed by Geoff. The historian glanced up, peering over the top of his spectacles at the young mouse for the dozenth time that morning.

"I say, Cyril, have you actually read a single word of that record yet? You've been on that page for so long, it's starting to collect dust."

Cyril's chin slipped from his paw upon hearing his name, and he had to scramble to keep his balance.

"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking, Mr. Geoff."

"Gatherin' some wool, more like it," Winokur put in with a chuckle. "Been guilty of doin' that myself a time or three."

Cyril continued playing absently with the stylus, looking at but not really seeing the page before him.

"These records are just the same things over and over again. Who cares what somebeast had for dinner twenty generations ago?"

"This is our history, Cyril," said Geoff. "Our heritage. Everything Redwall stands for is to be found here."

"But it's not why we're doing this," Cyril retorted. "We're supposed to be looking for clues about some war that's coming, and we haven't found anything like that. And we've barely begun to read what's here!"

"We knew this would be a formidable task when we started," Geoff reminded Cyril. "That's why I asked you and Cyrus and Winokur to assist me. Imagine how long it would take if I had to do this alone."

Winokur nodded knowingly. "Patience is a virtue."

"There's no need to be trite," Cyril muttered under his breath.

Geoff's ears were sharper than his eyes, and immediately his brow furrowed angrily. "And there's no need to be rude. Now, apologize to Winokur this instant!"

Cyril hung his head. "Sorry, Wink."

Geoff took a deep breath, shaking his head as he exhaled. "First, all that talk about wanting to become a warrior, and now this! What's come over you these days, Cyril?"

Cyril didn't answer. Before Geoff could berate him further, Cyrus frantically snatched for his kerchief and uncorked another impressive sneeze, with barely enough time to turn his head and cover his face.

"Caught that 'un too, Cyr," he said impishly. "Ooo, this drydust is really tickling my poor nose. I'll never stop sneezing."

Winokur leaned over and whispered into Geoff's ear, "Looks like one of our assistant's soured to this task, and the other's in discomfort. P'raps we should let these two mousies return to their bellringin' duties an' find some other beasts to help us read these records?"

Geoff considered the young otter's advice. "Perhaps," he said out loud. "But I tend to think it's this weather that's gotten us down, even down here, so to speak. Nobeast I've talked to can remember a storm like this, and it's weighed upon the spirit of everybeast at Redwall. It must be hard on these two youngsters, so full of energy, to spend hours down here in this tunnel, only to go upstairs and find the day as sunless and depressing as the darkest cellar."

He marked his spot and closed the book before him. "I think maybe we should take a rest from this task until the storm passes and the sun returns, and then we can take some of these records up and read them out on the lawns in the sunlight. Some of these books haven't seen the light of day in many generations, and it won't do them or us any harm."

"That might be awhile," Winokur ventured. "This storm's shapin' up to be a classic."

"Oh, it's got to end sometime. It can't keep up like this much longer," Geoff said optimistically. "Even if it takes another day or two, the sun will return over Mossflower as surely as the spirit of Martin watches over everybeast at Redwall."

Barely had these words passed Geoff's lips than there came a bustling from the main tunnel. It was Billus, and the young mole seemed unusually cheerful.

"Burr hurr, zurrs! Cyrull, Cyruz! Ee sun be a-shoinin' agin at last! Cum upp'n 'ave a gudd lunch outsoide, gennelbeasts!"

"Well, well!" Geoff stood. "See, one has only to speak the name of Martin to improve one's fortunes! Let's all take good master Billus's advice and have a good meal out of doors, and then we'll see about continuing our work out on the Abbey lawns. Good food and bright sun should be enough to improve all our dispositions."

The four archive searchers followed Billus down the tunnel, hastening to be in the inviting summer sun once more.


	7. Chapter 7

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Seven

Lunch that day ended up being taken on the top of the wall, since the lawns and orchard were still a wet mess from the rains.

There was little shade to be found up on the ramparts, but after the lengthy storm nobeast minded a good dose of sun. A fresh breeze provided a balance to the strong sunshine, and helped dry the walltop walkway while the Abbey grounds below still lay in their drenched, dripping, sun-bejewelled splendor. It had turned into the kind of day that made a creature glad to be alive.

Geoff, Winokur, Cyril, Cyrus and Billus found a clear spot for themselves along the crowded ramparts. Nibbling at some white and yellow breaded cheese, Geoff sniffed at the fresh, clean air while the breeze rippled the fur on the top of his head.

"Ah, glorious! Bit gusty, though. I wouldn't want to risk bringing any of the records up here until the wind calms down some - they might get blown away. And it's too wet down on the lawns. Perhaps we should plan on taking the rest of the day off, and get a fresh start tomorrow morning."

Abbess Vanessa was within earshot, escorting Lord Urthblood along the walltop as they surveyed the surrounding countryside for damage from the storm.

"Hello, Geoff. How is your search of the archives going?"

"Oh, hello, Vanessa. Lord Urthblood," Geoff nodded as the two approached. "Well, it's fascinating reading, but we haven't really found anything of use yet, as far as Lord Urthblood's prophecy is concerned. Our young assistants were getting a bit antsy. This walltop lunch was just the break we needed."

"Yes, it is grand to have the sun shining again," Vanessa readily agreed. "Do you think you might need more of us to help you with your reading?"

"It might come to that." Geoff removed his spectacles from the end of his snout and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "I tell you, it doesn't help that my eyes aren't as young as they used to be, or that Redwall hasn't had a decent lens crafter in many a season. I've even tried my own paw at the grinding and polishing wheels, but nobeast among us has the gift with glass to become a truly skilled lensmaker. A really fine pair of reading spectacles would help greatly, but I'll have to make do with these."

Urthblood stepped forward, holding out a paw. "May I?"

Geoff was surprised. "Oh ... of course." He passed his glasses to the Badger Lord. Urthblood scrutinized them carefully, holding them up to the sun and turning them about under his gaze.

"Yes, a bit on the crude side. Serviceable, I'm sure, but a true master of the craft could do much better. I know somebeasts up north who could improve upon this."

"Really?" Vanessa remarked. The Northlands had such a reputation as a wild and warlike region, it was easy to forget that there must be many honest and decent creatures living there as well ... craftsbeasts among them. "Well, Lord, if any of them would care to bring their skills to Redwall, I can guarantee they would never want for a bed or three meals a day ... not to mention our deepest gratitude."

"I will make inquiries, next time I am up north." Urthblood stood staring at Geoff's glasses, held delicately in his giant paw. "This reminds me of something I saw once. Some children were out playing on a sunny day. They'd found a magnifying glass that belong to their parents. They discovered that if they held it up to the sun in just the right way," and now Urthblood angled Geoff's spectacles until two brilliant white crescents appeared on the rampart stonework, "that they could generate a burning heat. They were using the glass to burn small insects."

"That's cruel!" Geoff and Vanessa blurted out as one.

Urthblood made no comment on their outcry, but continued to gaze at the pair of reading glasses. "A warrior going into battle must always consider the sun. Whether it is in his eyes or his enemy's can make the difference between victory and defeat, as even non-fighting beasts know. But ever since that day, I have wondered whether the sun could be used as an actual weapon. With lenses and perhaps mirrors of the proper size, might not a device be made which could focus sunlight just as these do, but on a scale that could incinerate an approaching army before it ever drew within arrow range?"

Vanessa gave a sharp intake of breath as she envisioned the horror of such a scene. Geoff chuckled uneasily, convinced that Urthblood must surely be joking. "You would need pretty big lenses and mirrors, My Lord."

"And it wouldn't work on a cloudy day," Cyril added.

Urthblood's gaze shot down toward the young mouse, seated a short distance away. "A very astute observation. You have spotted the primary weakness to such a weapon. You truly do show the tactical sharpness of a warrior. And perhaps a captain at that."

Cyril grinned widely at this compliment from a seasoned fighter, but Geoff was quick to quash the elation.

"Well, nobeast here will be building such a thing, if it could be built at all, which I doubt. As for my young helper here, I'm afraid that all this warrior talk has been having a detrimental effect on Cyril. Lately he's seemed restless and inattentive. And today he made a discourteous remark to Winokur. Hardly the proper young bellringer I know."

Vanessa arched an eyebrow toward Cyril. "Oh, really?"

Winokur nodded. "'fraid so, Abbess."

Cyril hung his head and tried to make himself invisible.

"Well, well," Vanessa clucked, "I think you'd better sit this young one down for a good long talk ... not about fanciful dreams of war but more important things, like respect for his elders."

Cyril looked up at Vanessa. "But, Mother Abbess ... someday Redwall will need a new warrior champion. Who's it going to be?"

"Right now, it appears Montybank has appointed himself to that post," Vanessa chuckled. "I've seen him walking around lately with the the sword of Martin strapped to his waist. No harm in that, I suppose, as long as he doesn't go swimming with it on!"

Urthblood returned Geoff's spectacles to the recorder mouse. "I have more reading to do before the evening meal. If you goodbeasts will excuse me ... " He turned and descended the nearby wall stairs to the lawns below.

Geoff balanced his glasses back on the tip of his nose. "Using lenses to burn creatures! Imagine! Do you suppose such a thing could be done, Vanessa?"

The Abbess was watching Urthblood's retreating figure. "I just do believe that if anybeast could achieve such a thing, that badger would be the one to do it."

00000000000

After lunch, Cyril and Cyrus went with Maura across the wet lawns and up into the bell tower. Now that it had finally stopped raining, the Abbess wanted to consult with the Sparra about Urthblood's proposal for a stairway up to Warbeak Loft. Maura was not skilled enough on the bells to be sure she could properly summon a Sparra messenger down from their court. The mouse brothers were more than happy to have a brief return to their old duties up in the airy belfrey after their days down in the dark archives. Maura watched attentively as they tolled out the correct sequence on the Matthias and Methuselah bells.

When they were finished, the three of them joined others who had gathered at the foot of the tower. Looking skyward, they saw two birds emerge from the eaves of Warbeak Loft and circle down toward them.

One of the birds turned out to be Rafter, Winokur's young Sparra friend. The otter assumed a playful boxing stance and dealt his sparrow sparring partner a soft tap on the beak.

"Rafter, y'old featherbag! Thought you were blown away in that storm!"

"Nosuch luckee for you, waterdog!" Rafter flapped his wings at Winokur.

The other Sparra was their leader, Highwing. The older bird gave Winokur and Rafter a sour look. "Ah, the foolishness of youth!"

"Yes," Vanessa grinned, "just like you and Monty used to kibbitz around when you were that age. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the very creature who invented the idea of otter/Sparra sparring?"

"Ahem. Yes, perhaps. But Monty and I were always more dignified about it than those two."

"Oh, yes. Whatever you say." Vanessa and Highwing were the closest of friends, and were not above casting a few jibes each other's way. "But seriously, how are things up in Warbeak Loft? That was a vicious storm. Did you suffer any damage or injuries up there?"

"A few wet nests, nothing more. Although we are all quite peckish, no pun intended. We weren't able to forage for food during the strom, and there wasn't much reserve food around the Loft. This young fool Rafter almost risked flying down in the rain to ask you for something from your kitchens, but in the end we all decided to sit tight until the storm passed. Most of the Sparra are out in Mossflower right now, filling their bellies and digging up some worms and such to bring back for our nestlings."

Vanessa surpressed a pang of queasiness. The food preferences of most Sparra were not to the taste of everybeast. Highwing himself had been raised in the lower Abbey by the woodlanders, and so did not fully share the eating habits of his fellow birds. He was, in truth, quite proud of the fact that he'd never actually eaten a worm, and was probably the only sparrow in all of Mossflower who could make such a claim, or would even want to.

"Well, I'm glad things went well for you during the storm, all things considered. The main reason I called you down was to discuss a certain matter with you." Vanessa explained about Urthblood's proposal for the Great Hall stairway to Warbeak Loft.

"Well," she concluded, "what do you think, my friend?"

"I think it's a capital idea, if it can be done," Highwing said with enthusiasm. "We Sparra may tend to go our own way most of the time, but when it comes right down to it, we're Redwallers all the same. An easy way for us to visit each other could only solidify our friendship."

"Foremole thinks it's possible to build it, although it would of course be a great undertaking and there's no way to guess how long it would take to complete. Go talk it over with the other Sparra, and if there are no objections ... well, then I suppose there's no reason we can't start on it right away."

"I'll convene a full wingmeet this evening after everybird returns from foraging, and then drop by tomorrow with our answer. I honestly anticipate no problem - I think this is an idea every Sparra will support."

The eloquent sparrow spread his wings to fly off, but before he could become airborn, Maura called him back.

"One more thing, Highwing," the badger matriarch said. "Since Cyril and Cyrus, our usual bellringers, are helping Geoff with his special project down in the archives, I'll be in charge of the bells for awhile."

Highwing cocked his head at her. "So that explains that racket we heard down here just before the storm. We figured it was supposed to be a storm warning. Either that, or somebeast had gone mad and was trying to end it all by strangling itself on the bell ropes."

"Very funny. Anyway, they'll be showing me the different tolls now, so you'll be hearing a lot of ringing for the next hour or so. Don't pay any attention to it - it won't mean we're trying to summon you."

Vanessa furrowed her brow. "But, Maura ... what if something does happen while you're practicing on the bells, that does require us to alert the Sparra? What will we do then?"

"Noproblem that," Rafter cawed, pausing in his horseplay with Winokur. "I stay downhere with pal waterdog, until big stripedogmum finish bellsounds. Any trouble, I fly up Warbeak Loft, bring Highwing."

"A workable plan," Highwing agreed. "Very well, then. I'll bid all you goodbeasts a pleasant afternoon, and speak with you again on the morrow." He flapped away, climbing the fresh breeze back up to the high roof of Redwall.

"What a well spoken bird," Maura said in admiration.

"Yes," Vanessa nodded. "His upbringing in the lower Abbey certainly helped him in that regard. Too bad he couldn't teach more of the Sparra to speak like that."

"A losing cause, I think," said Maura. "Trying to teach eloquence to sparrows, of all creatures! Must frustrate the dickens out of him."

Rafter was hanging on the outer fringe of their conversation. "Hey!" he protested. "Whatwrong with way Sparra speak!"

"Oh ... nothing. Nothing at all," Vanessa assured him, then turned her head to hide her amused chuckle.

00000000000

That evening, while most Redwallers were finishing up their light-hearted supper in the stained glass splendor of Great Hall, Brother Geoff paid a visit to the Infirmary.

Sister Aurelia looked up from her back corner desk upon the recorder mouse's arrival. "Hello, Brother Geoff! Is anything the matter?"

"I was about to make the same inquiry of you," Geoff chuckled. "You've certainly been making yourself scare these past few days. One would hardly know this Abbey even has an Infirmary keeper!"

"And how would you know?" Aurelia challenged. "Spending all your time down in those dusty old tunnels!"

"I do make it up for meals and bedtime," he said. "But that was the very reason I came to see you - that drying powder of the moles in the archives is giving all of us scratchy throats. I was wondering if you could spare a few of those herbal candies you specialize in."

"What, and not some nice hot nettle broth? That's so much better for sore throats ... "

Geoff held up both paws. "Please, no. Your hard suckers taste so much nicer!"

"I knew you'd say that. Very well ... " Aurelia dug into one side drawer of her small desk and produced of small cloth bag of the desired candies. "Here you go. That's the last of them. Looks like I'll have to whip up some more, when I get the chance."

Geoff glanced around the deserted Infirmary as he took the bag from her. "Doesn't look like you have much to keep you from that right now."

"Yes, we Redwallers are healthy as hogs just at the moment. And you won't hear me complaining about it one bit!"

"So, if that's the case, why are you keeping such a low profile these days?"

Sister Aurelia glanced left and right, as if afraid somebeast might have materialized out of thin air to eavesdrop on them. "Well, if you must know, it's that badger. I've been trying to avoid him."

Geoff was intrigued. "Really? Why is that?"

She told him all about her unnerving encounter with Urthblood on the badger's first night at Redwall. Geoff had of course heard about the incident, since Aurelia had shared the experience with Friar Hugh and Balla the following morning, but this was his first time hearing the tale related by the mousemaid herself.

"I know I must sound like a silly young mouse," she concluded, "but if you'd been there ... " Aurelia shook her head. "It's hard to find the right words to explain what it was like."

Geoff mulled it over. "Actually, I think I know just what you're trying to say. It's like ... well, like Lord Urthblood doesn't belong at Redwall."

"Exactly. And not just because he's such a grim warrior. Redwall has hosted Badger Lords before him, and we've had warrior champions of our own. Urthblood, on the other paw ... well, there's just something about him that makes my fur crawl."

Geoff sighed. "You're not the only beast who feels that way. Just this afternoon, up on the wall, he was going on about building some kind of weapon out of giant lenses and mirrors, to burn opposing armies with sunlight."

He waited for Aurelia to join him in his uneasy laughter at the outlandish idea, but she merely stared at him blankfaced and said, "I don't doubt for one moment that that badger would build such a device if he could ... and that he would not hesitate to use it."

Geoff shuddered at this confirmation of his own opinions about the brooding badger warrior. "Well, let me tell you, I feel I've had enough of Urthblood's company to last me a season. That conversation we had this afternoon unnerved me, same as you must have been on that first night."

"There's just something ... unnatural ... about that badger, Lord or no. Maybe supernatural is more like it. And the way he's been storming around the place, I'm surprised he hasn't staged a surprise inspection of the Infirmary ... tried to install some battlements in here to defend the sick, or something like that."

"Yes, he does seem to be putting Redwall on a war footing," Geoff agreed. "All ready for war ... but not an enemy in sight."

Sister Aurelia threw up her paws. "I know it's improper to talk like this about an honored guest of Redwall, especially one who's come to help us, but ... well, I just hope Lord Urthblood stays healthy while he's here, because if I had to treat him as a patient for any length of time, I honestly don't know whether I could do it." She stared at Geoff. "You won't tell anybeast about what I said here, will you? I can't help the way I feel about Urthblood, but I'd hate to have it get back to him."

"Oh, I don't know ... I think he might be flattered to learn what an impression he's made on both of us." Seeing Aurelia's brow furrow with concern, Geoff laughed. "Don't worry. I don't want him finding that out any more than you do." He turned and headed for the door, thanking Aurelia again for the cough drops.

00000000000

Brother Joel, Redwall's chief horticulturalist, escorted Abbess Vanessa up and down the rows of the gardens, conducting her on a tour of the ruination the storm had caused.

"All the grain and cereal crops were flattened," Joel was saying. "Wheat, oat, corn, barley ... all a total loss."

"Well, we can always mill acorns and other nuts to get flour from them," said Vanessa, "and we can gather as many of those as we need from the woods. What else?"

"The leafy greens were also a total loss. Lettuce, fennel, parsley, celery, spinach ... " Brother Joel sighed. "The good news is that it's still early enough in the growing season to plant another crop of those. Same with the herbs and spices, although Friar Hugh says we have a good supply of those in dried form in the kitchens. The flower gardens, on the other paw, will take until next spring to recover. We'll have to make do without scented water for the next couple of seasons, and our supplies of honey may run low by winter's end, unless our bees fly far afield to gather wild nectar."

"What about the rest?" Vanessa inquired.

"The underground vegetables seem to be all right. As long as the wetness in the soil doesn't start an outbreak of root rot, our crops of carrots, potatoes, turnips and beets should be as plentiful as ever. As far as the berry vines go, about half the harvest was lost. But that should still give us all we'll need until next year."

"And the orchards?"

"Foremole and I gave them a thorough inspection earlier this morning, Abbess. The damage there seems light. If we use fruit from the trees for the next two seasons' batches of cordials, we can save the surviving berries for pastries, preserves and jams. It should all balance out."

Vanessa paused, lifting her face to the morning sun. The cool breeze that had ushered out the storm had diminished, letting the usual summer heat settle back in over Mossflower country. Looking up at the cloudless blue sky, it was hard to believe that such a savage blast of weather had visited them so recently. Only the squishy soil of the garden under her bare paws gave testament to the copious amounts of rain that had fallen.

Teams of moles worked all around them, crouched low with their snouts to the ground as they pulled up ruined plants. Of all creatures, they could best sense which plants were beyond repair and which could be salvaged, especially with the tubered varieties such as carrots and beets. It was on their say so that Brother Joel had pronounced those crops healthy.

Vanessa breathed deeply of the earth-fragrant air. "Well, it could have been a lot worse, all things considered. These losses will be an inconvenience, but they won't result in any serious shortages of food. Mostly it will be a matter doing without some of the luxuries we're used to, but we'll be fine on the basics."

Somebeast called out to her. Vanessa glanced around at Brother Joel and the moles before realizing that the voice had come from above. Highwing dropped out of the sky three paces from her, rebounding lightly from his landing on the soft garden humus.

"Ahh, good morning, Abbess!" the Sparra leader greeted her boisterously. "How are you this fine summer day?"

"Getting my paws all muddied in the course of my Abbess's duties," she joked. "Just looking over the damage to the gardens. Bad, but not too bad. How goes it with you, my friend?"

Highwing bobbed his head in customary sparrow fashion. "I just wanted to let you know that I spoke with all the Sparra last evening, on the subject of those stairs Lord Urthblood wants to build up to Warbeak Loft. There was very little debate, miracle of miracles. Nearly every Sparra thinks it would be a wonderful thing to have. We'll even help to build it, if there's any way at all that we can be of assistance."

"Why, thank you for your offer, Highwing. Go speak with Foremole, he's around here someplace ... oh, there he is, over by the rhubarb, or what used to be the rhubarb before the storm. He can tell you better than I what will be involved in building those stairs, and how you might be able to help. Now that you Sparra have approved the project, I guess we'll be getting right on it."

Highwing bobbed-bowed his head and bade her good day, then hopped across the garden rows to where Foremole knelt.

"Careful with those talons, sir!" Brother Joel cried out at the sparrow. "Some of those crops are still good!"

Vanessa chuckled and strode out of the cultivated garden plots and onto the Abbey lawn. No sooner had she left Brother Joel's side than she heard her name being called yet again.

She turned to see Balla rounding the corner of the Abbey building and hastening toward her as fast as her short hedgehog legs would carry her. The cellarkeeper was clearly agitated, waving her arms wildly as she drew near.

"Vanessa, you'd best come quick! That badger's at it again!"

The Abbess regarded Balla with both concern and sternness. "You mean Lord Urthblood? What's that supposed to mean, 'at it again?' That's no way to talk about a guest of Redwall."

Balla shrugged. "Guest or no, I think Alexander's about to murder that brute."

"What?"

"It's over another of 'is lordship's wonderful ideas. Come with me, an' yer'll see what I mean." Balla turned and ran back the way she'd come.

Vanessa gave a resigned sigh and glanced downward. Both her footpaws and the hem of her habit were muddy from her tour of the gardens, and she'd have to go attend to their honored guest with no chance to get cleaned up first. Oh, well, Lord Urthblood had surely seen worse in the Northlands. Vanessa hurried after Balla to see what all the fuss was about.

00000000000

"No! I won't let you!"

Alexander stood before Urthblood on the south lawns, paws on his hips in a stance of open defiance toward the badger warrior. Elmwood and several other squirrels of the Mossflower Patrol stood behind him in a show of support. Alexander's bushy tail twitched like an angry snake, betraying the full depth of his agitation.

Urthblood regarded Alexander with his usual coolness. "That is not your decision to make, but the Abbess's ... and here she is now."

It was a tense scene that greeted Vanessa when she arrived, with Balla jogging at her side. She'd heard Alexander's angry shouts from clear across the Abbey grounds. Brother Geoff, Cyril, Cyrus and Winokur had paused in their readings of the histories up on the battlements, and stood gazing down at the confrontation between squirrel and badger. Montybank's attention had also been drawn by the shouting, and he'd raced over from the pond with several other otters to try to help calm the situation.

"What is going on here?" Vanessa demanded with utmost authority.

Alexander pointed accusingly at Urthblood. "He wants to cut down the trees!"

Vanessa was confused. She glanced over at the orchard, which contained the only trees within Redwall, then back at Alex. "What trees? What are you talking about?"

Urthblood pointed to the east wall, and the high oaks and elms that towered over the walltop. It was at that spot that Mossflower Woods came closest to the Abbey. "Those trees, Abbess. They pose a hazard."

"Oh?" Vanessa understood now why Alexander was so upset. The squirrels often used those tall trees as a short cut into Redwall, leaping nimbly from the higher branches onto the walltop when they didn't feel like waiting for somebeast to open one of the wallgates to admit them. No creature but a squirrel would dare to use such a way in and out of the Abbey. Vanessa herself often frowned upon such activity. But Alex and his squirrels were natural climbers, and since none had ever slipped and fallen during all the seasons Alex had headed the Mossflower Patrol, she turned a blind eye to their dizzying jumps. If those trees were cut down, it would put a permanent end to their acrobatic shortcuts, and they'd be forced to use the gates like everybeast else.

Vanessa waved a paw for Alex to be quiet. "Please explain this, My Lord. What kind of hazard do you believe they pose?"

"I have been reading your histories, Abbess. During the war with Cluny the Scourge, and again during Redwall's conflict with the Marlfoxes, enemies of this Abbey nearly succeeded in using those trees to climb over the wall and breach your defenses. On those occasions, it was only luck which prevented total catastrophe. If it almost worked for them, it will work for others. Those trees must come down, for the safety of Redwall."

Alexander could hold his silence no longer. "If you've read those histories," he snapped at Urthblood, "then you'll also know that those trees were used to get Matthias safely back into Redwall when he was lost in Mossflower. Squirrels have often come and gone by that route when the territory outside the walls have been occupied by enemies and impassible to any ground creature. Those trees have done Redwall far more good than harm over the seasons."

"Alexander makes good points," Vanessa said, "and here are some more. We here at Redwall are loathe to cut down any tree unnecessarily. Whenever possible, we take our firewood from dead branches and logs from the forest floor, or from trees that are sick or dying. We only cut down healthy trees when we needs solid, dependable lumber for building ... and then we are ever mindful to plant new saplings to take their place in the seasons to come. You speak of our security, My Lord. Thanks to you, we have full-time sentries in place on the walltop now. No enemy of Redwall could breach our walls in the manner you suggest, now that we have increased our watchfulness. Besides, the only creatures who could easily use that way into Redwall without special devices are squirrels, and they are not enemies."

"Not all tree climbers are friendly," Urthblood countered in his smooth rumble. "There are tribes of tree rats even here in Mossflower. And remember the Painted Ones your champion Matthias encountered on his way to Malkariss to retrieve his stolen son from slavers ... "

"Geoff's right. You do know our history surprisingly well," Vanessa admitted. "But the Painted Ones lived many days' march to the south, atop the high cliff wall from which there's no easy way down. They pose no threat to Redwall."

"Matthias made it up that cliff, and back down again," Urthblood reminded her. "In times of upheaval and crisis, enemies and allies alike may be displaced and suddenly turn up where you would not expect to find them. And there may be others like the Painted Ones, not yet known to us. It would be unfortunate to learn of them only when they swarm over these walls in a massed assault."

"Yes, that would be terrible indeed," said Vanessa, the barest hint of sarcasm in her tone. "But Alexander and his squirrels range far and wide throughout these woods, gathering news from the farthest fringes of Mossflower. They would know of any such enemies, and whether they were planning an attack, long before they reached Redwall."

"Oh? And tell me, exactly how many patrols have they made in the time I have been at Redwall?"

This unexpected question set Alex stammering. "But, but, first it was a celebration day, and then the storm for two days ... "

"Ah," Urthblood nodded, "so the answer is none. Abbess, if I could demonstrate to you that a large horde might be able to come upon this Abbey without any advance warning, avoiding the notice of even your squirrel patrols, would you then consent to have those trees cut down?"

Vanessa considered this. "You would have to make your case most convincingly, My Lord. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I was speaking hypothetically. Perhaps an opportunity to provide such a demonstration will arise before the time comes for me to leave Redwall. If not, you will of course have to do what you think best for this Abbey."

"Of course." Vanessa perked up. "On a lighter note, My Lord, the Sparra met last night to discuss your idea of a stairway up to Warbeak Loft, and they think it would be a fine thing. Foremole will start making the preparations to build it. I'm sure he'll want to consult with you on the design, and take another look at that sketch you made."

"I've since done an improved version," Urthblood informed her. "I'm sure he'll want to see it."

"He's over in the gardens ... why not go speak with him now? The mole teams inspecting the crops can certainly spare him for something like this."

"Thank you, Abbess." Urthblood took his leave of them, strolling toward the gardens.

Alexander's tail was still twitching. "Nessa, you're not going to let him ... "

"Don't worry, Alex. Nobeast will be cutting down those trees anytime soon. But you ought not to have gotten so excited. Lord Urthblood is our guest. The next time you take issue with one of his suggestions, please try to be more civil about it."

Monty slapped his squirrel friend on the back. "Nessa's right 'bout that, Alex matey. I haven't seen yer brush twitch like that in a saucerful o' seasons! Ain't th' proper attitude t' show an ally, not even one like that 'un."

"Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. When he started talking about cutting down the trees ... " Alex gazed after the departing Badger Lord. "He's just so warlike, sometimes I can't believe he's for real."

"All those seasons in the Northlands have made him a grim beast," Vanessa agreed. "And the weight of his prophecy can't be easy to bear. These are things we must keep in mind. But as long as he does nothing to violate our basic rules or upset our way of life, we must consider him friend, ally and honored guest of Redwall. He is a Badger Lord of the mountain, after all."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Vanessa," said Alexander. "I'll try not to let anything like that happen again."

The small crowd broke up, Redwallers returning to their routine tasks. Up on the walltop, Geoff and his fellow archive searchers returned their attention to their books, scrolls and parchments.

Vanessa found herself standing alone on the south lawn. Fighting the temptation to just fall onto her back for a nap in the warm summer sun, she hastened inside to wash up and change into a new habit, before another crisis arose and she had to face anybeast else in her garden-soiled state.


	8. Chapter 8

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Eight

Noticing that Cyrus had begun sniffling, Geoff glanced up from his page and looked across the ramparts to the young mouse.

"Cyrus, is that dust still bothering you? I thought moving outdoors would solve that problem."

"Oh, it's not that, Mr. Geoffrey, sir." Cyrus pawed away a tear. "I jus' finished reading about the Battle of Marshank that Martin the Warrior fought before coming to Mossflower. The way poor Laterose was killed, it was so sad!"

Cyril regarded his younger brother without sympathy. "Aw, that was a long time ago, Cy. Don't cry like a baby over it."

Geoff cast a reproving glance at Cyril. "When that tale was first told to us in the time of Abbot Saxtus, nearly everybeast at Redwall openly wept at its tragedy. Martin himself never spoke of Laterose, or any of his adventures in the Northlands. The memories must have been too painful for him."

Cyrus sniffed again. "I wish she could have lived."

"Well, that's the funny thing about history," Geoff said. "Look at it this way, Cyrus. If Rose had not been killed in the Battle of Marshank, Martin almost surely would have married her. They'd probably have settled down in her home of Noonvale, since Martin had lost his family to searats and slavers, and had nowhere else to go. Well, if that had happened, then Martin never would have traveled south to Mossflower, never would have helped the decent woodlanders here vanquish the wildcat tyrants ... and Redwall Abbey might very well have never been built. The paw of fate is apparent in these events. From the tragedy of Martin's great loss came something of much greater good."

"Fate can be pretty cruel, then, I guess," Cyrus sniffled, wiping his nose with his habit sleeve.

"Oh, brother," Cyril muttered scornfully.

Geoff crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval. "And tell us, young master Cyril, what is wrong with a goodbeast showing some emotion over a tragic tale?"

Cyril lifted his chin defiantly. "A warrior would never cry."

Geoff clucked his tongue. "For your information, our own Matthias is recorded to have shed many a tear when his beloved wife Cornflower passed on. And he is held to be the greatest warrior Redwall had since Martin himself. In fact, somebeasts believe Matthias was our founding warrior's reincarnation, as foretold by Martin himself. And that is as true a warrior as you can get."

"I bet Lord Urthblood would never cry," Cyril said.

Geoff stared hard at Cyril.

"No," he said after several moments, "no, I don't believe he would. I have not heard that badger laugh once since his arrival at Redwall ... I don't think I've even seen him so much as crack a smile in all the time he's been here. I cannot imagine what horrors he must have witnessed to have made him so grim. I fear his heart has become so hardened by his warrior's existence that he can no longer truly enjoy life. Or perhaps it has more to do with the prophecy he was given, of knowing that the fate of so many creatures may rest upon him. His spirit almost seems to have become that of a beast who no longer fully walks in the world we know. You do not want to be like him, Cyril ... trust me, you do not."

Cyril maintained his defiant look, but did not meet the gazes of Geoff, Winokur or Cyrus.

"Cyril," Geoff softened his tone, "I know Lord Urthblood's presence has had an effect on you, starting the day he arrived. But it's just a youngbeast's fascination for something new and exciting ... not that I myself ever engaged in such fantasies, but then we never had a Badger Lord visit Redwall in my youth. You must understand this. If Urthblood were to leave tomorrow, you'd quickly forget all about these warlike matters and realize they were just a passing fancy."

Cyril shook his head sharply. "I'm not a little child. I'm serious about becoming a warrior. Lord Urthblood takes me seriously, even if nobeast else does."

Geoff's voice sharpened once more. "You seem to think this would be some grand, fun adventure. You have no idea what it means to be a real warrior."

"Then I could learn!" Cyril pleaded. "Redwall doesn't even have a champion right now ... and I'm nearly as old as Matthias was when he fought Cluny. All I need is somebeast to teach me. And I'll bet Lord Urthblood would be willing to do it if nobeast else will!"

Geoff grimaced. "Yes, I'm sure he would. He's certainly encouraged you in this direction enough already." The recorder mouse contemplated the situation before him. "Cyril," he said at last, "do you want to continue helping us read through the histories?"

Cyril shuffled his sandals against the rampart stonework. "No."

Geoff nodded. "I thought before it was just the bad weather and the gloomy confines of the archives that were distracting you, but I see now that your heart is not in this endeavor, even out here in the bright summer sun. Very well ... you are excused from this task. Go tell Maura that you'll be able to help her with the bellringing duties from now on."

Cyril stood and forlornly headed for the nearest flight of wall stairs. There was no pride to be had in dismissal from such an important Abbey project, especially when Geoff had specifically requested him for the job. Cyrus wordlessly looked after his older brother, utterly mystified as to Cyril's present mood or why he wouldn't want to continue to help with their reading.

Winokur leaned over and whispered something in Geoff's ear. The historian straightened and called out, "Oh, and Cyril?"

The departing novice paused at the top of the stairs.

"Personally, I think this whole business of wanting to become a warrior is silliness of the highest order," Geoff said. "But, if you're really serious about it, Winokur here will put in a good word for you with Monty, and we'll see what he has to say about it. If you can convince him that training you would be worth his while ... well, then it's up to him. I warn you, he won't be an easy taskmaster, although I daresay you'd rather train under him than Lord Urthblood!"

Cyril tried to hide his smile, but couldn't quite succeed. He took the wallsteps two at a time, doing his best impersonation of a squirrel in his haste to seek out Redwall's newly-appointed otter Skipper, and somehow managed to reach the lawns without breaking his neck.

Geoff chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, to be young and foolish again!"

"Yeah, ain't it grand?" Winokur stood, excusing himself. "Lemme go get that mousie squared away wi' our Skip. Be back in a two shakes of me rudder!"

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The young otter caught up to Cyril halfway across the lawns. "Whoa, slow down there, Cyril matey! Don'tcha want me there t' help make yer case t' Skip Monty fer ya?"

Cyril stopped and turned to face Winokur. "How come you talk like an otter sometimes, and like a normal beast other times?"

Winokur put a flipper to his breast in feigned offence. "You sayin' us otters ain't normal beasts?"

"You know what I mean," Cyril laughed. "I've seen you in Brother Geoff's classes speaking as properly as any mouse of the order."

Winokur shrugged. "All me ... er, my ... otter mates talk the way they talk, and it just naturally rubs off on me. The little ones seem to like it when I speak that way, so I just sort of slip into it without thinking when I'm with younger beasts ... "

Cyril regard the otter. Winokur was just enough seasons older than Cyril so that they'd never become close friends or playmates. They knew each other from some of the classes they'd shared and from seeing each other around the Abbey, but most of the time Winokur was off with his fellow otters or his sparrow pal Rafter while Cyril and Cyrus kept to their molefriend Billus and some of the younger children. "I'm not a little kid, Wink."

"If I thought you were, then I wouldn't be taking you to see Skip, now would I?" He gave Cyril a playful slap on the arm. "Listen, I dunno if you've got what it take t' be a warrior. But you seem pretty determined, an' that's half the battle right there. So might's well give it a try an' see what comes of it, eh?"

"Thanks. That's all I'm asking. If only everybeast 'round here could see it that way. They all seem to think that just because I'm an orphan, and don't have any parents to impress, that I'll be content to be a novice bellringer for the rest of my life."

"Well, I can sorta identify, bein' a half-orphan myself. My Mum died right after I was born, y'know."

"Yeah, I know. That's too bad. Cyrus and I were dropped off here as infants. Our parents probably still live somewhere out on the Western Plains. They just couldn't provide for us the way they wanted, so they left us to be raised at Redwall."

"There's worse places to grow up, that's fer shore," Winokur said. "My Dad Warnokur was just too much of a wanderin' spirit to ever settle down here. But with Geoff and old Brother Trevor to school me, and Montybank and Maura to keep my rudder straight, and even the dear ol' Abbot and Abbess themselves to take an interest in my upbringing, I had all the parenting a youngbeast could want. You can be sure you and Cyrus weren't stinted in that regard."

"No, I guess not. I'm not complaining, it's just that ... well, I feel I'm ready to become more than I am now, and I can't stand the idea of being kept from that, just because all the oldbeasts here think I'm still a child."

"Well said," Winokur gave an encouraging nod. "So let's go see that Skipper of ours, and see about getting you that warrior's training you want!"

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That night, Alexander took his turn as walltop sentry. And, as fate would have it, he was to have some company on the battlements.

Cyril yawned, long and wide, then pawed at his eyes.

"A bit past your bedtime," Alex wryly observed.

"Oh, excuse me, Alexander, sir," Cyril apologized, splashing some cold water onto his face from a nearby basin.

"If you're getting sleepy, Cyril, you can go down whenever you want. You don't have to stay up here all night, you know."

These words brought the young mouse more fully awake than the water dripping from his whiskers. "Yes, I do, sir. Montybank assigned me to stand guard with you. If I don't stick out the full shift, he won't want to train me at all."

"Ahh. Well, I'm not much of a nightbeast myself, so I do appreciate the company to help keep me awake. Bit of a dirty trick, if you ask me, Monty setting a task for you that you're ill-equipped to manage. On the other paw, a real warrior will sometimes have to go without sleep while the creatures he protects are slumbering ... and in time of war, keeping a vigilant watch can be as vital a part of the warrior's job as any swordplay. Perhaps this is a good first trial for you after all."

"Oh." When Cyril had gone to Montybank that afternoon asking to be trained as a warrior, the otter Skipper had smiled and seemed highly amused by the whole thing. His assignment for Cyril to stand watch tonight with Alexander had been tossed out like a dismissal, just to get the young mouse out of his fur. But now Alexander's words made Cyril look at things anew. He had assumed Alex was to be his nursemaid, the experienced Forest Patrol leader playing the part of babysitter. But this squirrel knew as much of the warrior's art as anybeast at Redwall. Cyril suddenly realized what an honor it was to stand watch with Alexander.

"Alexander, sir? You seem to be taking me more seriously about this than the others ... "

"It's halfway toward dawn. I think that shows a lot of dedication right there. When I was a young student in Brother Trevor's classes, and learned the story of Matthias, I came to accept that true warriors may emerge from the most unlikely of places. So, if you say you want to be a warrior, I'll certainly give you the benefit of the doubt. If you're really serious ... "

"I am! I swear it!"

"Then let this night begin your training, and we'll soon see if you have the stuff that makes a real warrior." Alex raised a paw and pointed out over the walltop into the darkness, somewhere to the southwest of Redwall. "Look out that way, Cyril, and tell me what you see."

Cyril peered out over the battlement stone, straining his eyes to scan the dark countryside. The quarter-moon provided very little in the way of light. It was all Cyril could do to make out the dark gray ribbon of the main road snaking away into the south of Mossflower, the dense tree growth forming a darker shadow against the night itself. Across the road from Redwall, the flat expanses of the plains rolled away to the west like a still and silent ocean, a lighter shade of gray than the road but just as featureless in the dim moonlight.

Alexander pointed to a spot of scattered copses, on the edge of the Western Plains where the trees grew in isolated clusters before yielding completely to the flat grasslands. Cyril stared at it. "I don't see anything, Alexander, sir."

"Look harder. Into the darkness beneath the trees."

Cyril tried again. This time, after several moments, he could discern a faint flickering coming from between the treetrunks. At this distance, it was only just brighter than the plains around the copse. "I see it! Somebeast has lit a fire in that stand of trees."

"That's right," the squirrelmaster said. "Good job, Cyril. Your eyesight is quite sharp."

"Not as sharp as yours, sir. How did you ever - "

Alex held up a paw. "I only saw it myself because I knew right where to look. Elmwood, who had this watch last night, reported seeing signs of a campfire across the road to the south. Whatever beast is camped there, this is their second night in the same spot. Strange, that. I think tomorrow some of us should go take a look."

"Do you suppose they've been there longer than just the last two nights?"

"Impossible to say. It was raining buckets the two nights before that, so there wouldn't have been any fire to see. And we haven't had a proper patrol out since Lord Urthblood's arrival, so ... Cyril! Look out!"

Alex darted forward and pulled Cyril down onto all fours. Cyril heard the piercing cry and felt the wind of the tremendous wingflaps before he actually saw the giant bird pass over him ... and then it was gone, before he could see just what it was. Two more shrieks cut through the night, then quiet calm returned to Redwall Abbey.

He and Alexander raised themselves into a cautious crouch. "What was that?"

Alex shook his head. "Owls are the only birds that fly at night, normally, but that didn't look like an owl to me. Too big to be a bat. Strange ... very strange."

He stood all the way up, scanning the night sky as he dusted off his tunic. "And I've never heard a noise like that from any bird. Sounded like a signal, almost. Probably woke up half the Abbey."

"It might've gotten me, if you hadn't seen it coming and pulled me down just in time ... "

"I'm not so sure it was after us," Alexander said. "It still could have grabbed either of us if it had wanted to. I got the impression that it was as surprised to see us standing up here as we were to see it. I think it may even have veered away at the last moment to avoid hitting us. Perhaps it's not a creature that's used to flying at night."

"It doesn't seem to be coming back. Do you suppose it could have been the same falcon that visited Lord Urthblood before the storm?"

"Could be ... although I think that monster that just flew over us was even bigger than Urthblood's falcon."

Down on the dark and empty grounds, the silence was broken by the opening of the door to the main Abbey. The dim flicker of the Great Hall torches spilled out onto the lawns for a few seconds, then the wedge of light vanished again as the emerging figure closed the door behind it. Even in the near-blackness, there was no mistaking the hulking armored form.

"Speak of the devil," Alexander muttered.

Urthblood strode across the lawns, making straight for the west wall steps. Climbing them brought him up to the ramparts just a few paces from the two watchers. He might have nodded to them - it was too dark to be sure - but uttered no sound as he went to the high walltop over the main gate.

The badger held something in one paw. A sudden wash of weak light revealed it to be a lantern, which he'd kept covered until gaining the gatetop. Lifting the lamp high above his head, he swung it to and fro, describing a moving arch of pale light against the black of night.

"Now what do you suppose - " Cyril started to whisper, but was cut short by a shoosh from Alexander.

Another of the unearthly shrieks came out of the night, and the winged giant materialized from the darkness to settle roughly upon the battlements alongside the badger.

"It is the falcon!" Cyril said in an excited hush. He'd been down in the archives when Urthblood had last conferred with the winged officer, and was sorry he'd missed it. Now he was very glad he'd taken this late watch with Alexander.

But Alex shook his head. "No ... that's not a falcon. A kite, I think, although it's hard to be sure in the lamplight. But it definitely is a good deal bigger than the falcon that visited us before. Even Lord Urthblood is dwarfed standing next to it!"

"How many birds does he have working for him?" Cyril wondered.

"A very good question," said Alex, for it was obvious that Urthblood was indeed conferring with this night visitor just as he had with the falcon before the storm. "But those cries it gave out must have been a signal, as I suspected, considering how quickly Urthblood came out to meet it."

More Redwallers had started to emerge at last from the main Abbey, standing upon the lawns in the small pool of light coming through the open door. None ventured any farther, content to watch Urthblood's walltop conference from a distance in case the winged giant proved less friendly toward unarmed woodlanders than toward armored badgers.

Urthblood replaced the cover over his lantern. He and the bird became a pair of massive silhouettes against the starry sky. Moments later there was heard the flapping of tremendous wings as the larger of the two shadow-shapes lifted from the walltop and disappeared into the night.

Alexander stepped forward to meet the Badger Lord at the top of the wall stairs. "What was all that about, Lord?"

"Routine reports, nothing more," Urthblood calmly replied, causing the Alexander to raise his eyebrows. The squirrel chief's eyebrows rose even higher as Urthblood continued, "I wish another council with the Abbey leaders first thing in the morning."

"Oh? And yet you're sure that bird carried no urgent news?" Alexander's tone held open disbelief.

"If it had been urgent," Urthblood said, "I would call the council right now and not wait until the morning." He started down the wall steps.

"If you say so. Oh, one other thing, My Lord."

Urthblood paused on the top step to hear Alexander's report.

"For the past two nights, there have been sightings of a campfire burning on the other side of the road to the south of here. It should be investigated. Do you think we should send out a party right now, since most of us seem to be awake, or wait until daylight?"

The badger warrior seemed to mull it over for a moment. "I would not worry about it," he said at last, and continued on his way down to the dark lawns.

"Not worry about it!" Alex muttered. "And this from the very same beast who was so concerned with our security that he put us up here in the middle of the night to stand watches?" He turned to stare out at the barely-visible campfire once more. "There's something odd going on here. Too odd for my liking ... "

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A hare, a mole and a shrew sat around the fire.

The hare lounged with his back against a treetrunk, one leg crossed over the other, his oversized paddle foot tapping out a rhythm in midair. He was entertaining himself and his companions with a boisterous melody on a set of tuned wood pipes. By overblowing against the holes, he was able to give the pipes' mellow, flutelike tone a rougher and livelier edge. His tune had the rowdy feel of a sea shanty, and if it had had words they almost certainly would not have been appropriate for children's ears.

He finished off with an upbeat flourish and set aside his instrument. His campmates refrained from applauding, but showed their appreciation in a more low-key manner with smiles and nods.

"Burr hurr, et wuz a gudd 'un, Browdee."

"Woulda done a sea otter proud," the shrew agreed. "Play us another, Browder."

"Whoa, lemme catch my breath first!" the hare laughed, basking in the accolades. "A chap isn't made of wind, wot?"

"Depends what beast ye're talkin' 'bout," said the shrew. "I've knowed some in the north what were nuthin' but."

"Then I'm jolly well glad I never made their acquaintance." Browder clasped his paws behind his head and stretched out his long legs in front of him. "Although, in my distinguished career as a roving player and master thespian, I've knowed - er, known - quite a number of beasts. Takes all types to make a proper bally audience, wot? Fer instance, I recall with no small fondness my engagement before the ruling court of Noonvale ... "

"Hurr, brudder, 'ere 'ee goes again," the mole muttered, rolling his tiny eyes.

"Yeah, no more o' yer rem'nisses about yer one night stands, Browder, we heard 'em all already. We know you've 'ad t'play fer yer supper or go hungry, jus' like the rest o' us." The shrew snorted. "Master actor - ha!"

Browder pulled a petulent lower lip. "Well, Urthblood seems to have a higher opinion of my acting abilities than you blokes, else he wouldn't have chosen me for this special duty."

"Yah, 'cos you were the only hare actor he could find." The shrew looked around, into the night beyond the firelight. "I'm startin' to wonder if'n we'll ever hear from that badger again."

"Oh, no doubt about that, Jarbo me old shrew. Besides, wot're you complainin' about? We've got a beautiful summer night an' all the world is ours to enjoy. Sure beats that dank old log where we had to shelter two days straight during that dreadful storm. I thought we were going to float right away!"

"Yurr roight 'bout that, Browdee," said the mole. "Oi'm gurtly afeared o' water deeper'n moi 'ead. Most of uz molers are." He closed his eyes and lay down on a bed of moss. "Oi'll be takin' sum shutoi noaw. If'n you play anymore, Browdee, make et a noice quoiet 'un please, zurr."

"Righto, Folsom chappie. Just happens I know a nice little lullabye, the bally thing for serenading sleepin' babes and moles in the woods." The hare once more raised the pipes to his lips and blew out a soft, slow string of notes, a whispering melody gentle as the summer night breeze. Folsom sighed in molish contentment as he lay upon the moss, but Jarbo clearly preferred a more spirited tune and quickly grew restless, fidgiting upon his log seat.

Sensing his shrew companion's mood, Browder paused in his playing to cast Jarbo a knowing glance over the top of the pipes. "By the by, this one also goes over great with th' gels."

Jarbo grinned. "Yeah, right. You've had as many females as I've had dinners with the King of the Moon!"

"Hey, have a care with that talk, Jarbsy mate! Them's fightin' words to a hare!"

"Fightin' words, eh? Then come have at me, you flop-eared fool. You know I kin lick yer any day, blindfolded an' wi' one paw tied behind my back."

Browder's indignant pose instantly deflated. He might have been able to fool a stranger, but his companions knew he was no fighting beast. "Oh, life can be so hard for a simple traveling actor."

"Oh yeah?" Jarbo countered. "Try fightin' in a battle sometime, an' you'll see how hard life can be."

"An' sully my reputation as a peaceful ambassador of the arts? Never, sah!"

"Quioet, gennelbeasts!" Folsom moaned. "Oi'm troin' t' sleep!"

"Sorry, chap." Browder held a paw to his lips. "Some silence for the mole, Jarbo," he whispered in mock seriousness.

"Don'tcha mean 'soilence?'" The hare and shrew chuckled softly together, and Browder made to resume his lilting lullabye. Barely had he begun to blow his notes than the smooth song of the pipes was drowned out by the crashing of tree growth overhead and the rush of mighty flapping wings.

Folsom came instantly awake and alert, rolling away from the fire to hide behind a tree. Jarbo joined him a moment later, but Browder sat his ground, gazing nervously up at the kite that now dominated the camp clearing.

The immense bird of prey could probably have lifted all three of them at once with little effort. But this particular kite was known to them, and Browder knew he was in no danger. Still, it was impossible not to be at least a little intimidated, being so close to such a mighty hunter of the sky.

"Hullo, Halpryn," Browder said to the bird. "Been waitin' the bloody longest time for you to show. Glad you finally made it."

The kite - a female of majestic proportions - stared across the glade at the shrew and mole peeking out at her from behind their treetrunks, then turned her steely gaze upon the hare.

"Urthblood says you go now."

"Righto," Browder gave a carefree salute. "First thing in the morning, I'm off."

Halpryn shook her great feathered head. "No, not morning. Now. This night."

Browder sputtered in exasperation. "But ... but I haven't had a decent night's sleep goin' on four nights now, 'cos I've been stayin up waitin' for you."

"Yeah," Jarbo whispered to Folsom from behind his tree, "he's been gettin' all his sleep during the day, an' we're the ones who've had to listen to his snorin'!"

"Hurr hurr hurr."

Browder went on, "I need to rest up before I can embark on such a bally sprint."

"Your problem. Urthblood says leave tonight. Your fire was seen from Redwall. They could have come to investigate."

"Oh, and wot would they have found? Just a jolly little trio of harmless woodlanders camped out for the night, enjoyin' each other's humble company. No harm done."

Halpryn blinked in the firelight, immune to any argument from the hare. "You leave tonight," she said curtly, then took flight without another word. The wind from her wings fanned the fire, scattering embers and ash all around the small clearing. Browder had to wave his paws in front of his face to keep the dancing red sparks from going into his eyes.

"Well, I never ... " Browder looked toward Jarbo and Folsom, emerging from behind their shelter. "How's a chap s'posed to undertake a journey like this on such blinkin' short notice? Why, I'm tempted to bed down right here through to morning, just to show that cold featherbag!"

"Uh, I wouldn't, if'n I was you," Jarbo said. "If Lord Urthblood wants you to get started tonight, you'd best do just that."

"Ee's roight, Browdee," Folsom agreed. "You'm doant be wantin' that moighty stroipedog mad at you, no zurr."

Browder pursed his lips. "You chaps're probably right. Ah, well, no rest for the wicked, I suppose." The hare cast about him, gathering up this and strapping on that, and in no time at all he was travel-ready. Everything he would need for this trip was tucked into the pouches and compartments of his travel belts, and a haversack of extra food and drink was slung across his back. He carried no weapons; this was a mission for speed, and Browder was sure he could outrun anybeast who might try to pick a fight. When it came to confrontation, Browder's specialty was flight.

He paused when he came to his musical pipes, wondering whether he should try to squeeze them into the haversack with the extra food. At length he turned to Folsom and held the instrument out to the mole.

"No time for music where I'm going, I'm 'fraid. Keep these safe for me, Folsom ol' pal, an' I'll collect 'em from you when we meet again."

"Hurr, you'm shure 'bout this, Browdee? They'm yurr faveritt possesshurn."

"That's why I'm trustin' 'em to a nice sensible chappie like you. Moles're proper respectable beasts about carin' for things." Browder shook paws with Jarbo and Folsom.

"Yurr ... take care, Browdee, burr hurr."

"Watch out fer yerself," Jarbo said. "An' break a leg."

"Not while I'm going over those bally mountains, I hope. See you both later this season, if all goes well ... and I jolly well hope it does." Browder hefted the sack and walked off into the darkness of the trees beyond the firelight, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm off to Salamandastron!"


	9. Chapter 9

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Nine

Learning that Lord Urthblood wanted to hold another council of the Abbey elders to coincide with breakfast, Friar Hugh spread the big table in Cavern Hole with a lavish variety of food and drink. When Vanessa and the others came down for the start of the meeting, they were greeted by a display of cinnamon toast with butter, quince tarts, and a deluxe apple and spice cake topped with sweet crushed hazelnut crumbs. Drinks included honeyed milk, cool mint tea and grape and cherry cordials.

Monty was, naturally, the first to tuck into the delectable-looking cake, forcing a hefty wedge onto his plate between slices of toast and warm tarts. The others helped themselves to more modest portions, and filled their cups with their beverages of choice. Urthblood satisfied himself with two pieces of toast and a tumbler of cool water.

The Badger Lord waited until all present had finished serving themselves, so that he could speak without distractions. This gathering was the same as the first council on the afternoon of his arrival, with one exception: the Abbess had decided it was too early to summon Highwing, so the Sparra leader was absent from this session. But the rest of the Abbey leaders - Vanessa, Arlyn, Geoff, Montybank, Alexander, Maura and Foremole - were with Urthblood at the table. Friar Hugh and his staff withdrew up the stairs to Great Hall so that the eight of them could have Cavern Hole all to themselves. Unless some emergency arose up above, nobeast would intrude until the Abbess emerged to declare the council concluded.

Like a hungry force of nature, Monty reached for his second slice of cake while most of the others were just getting started on their first helpings. Recognizing that they would be here all day if he waited for the otter Skipper to stop eating, Urthblood began.

"I concluded our last meeting by saying that there was much more to be told, of my prophecy and my activities to prepare for it. Now that improvements in Redwall's defenses are underway and I have given you the full measure of my warrior's counsel, the time has come to speak of these things."

Every Redwaller at the table, even Monty, gave Urthblood their undivided attention. So far the badger warrior had deflected all their inquiries about the bird which had visited the night before, refusing to discuss the matter until the council was underway. They were all most eager to hear his explanation of that event.

What he was to tell them that morning, however, would make them forget all about the night visitor.

"I have told you that my prophecy foretells a great crisis, which I believe may be nearly upon us. I have also told you that the prophecy is vague about the exact nature of this crisis, or the direction from which it will come. There may be war, or perhaps a series of wars, on a scale unprecedented in all the history of the lands. Twenty seasons ago, when fate first spoke through me and my paw carved this doom into the living rock of Salamandastron, I bent the entirety of my mind and will toward a possible solution to this threat. I asked myself, over and over, what action might I take to best meet this coming upheaval? And at last I decided upon a course that I felt was the only way to prepare for these difficult times.

"Since the prophecy does not reveal which creatures will involve themselves in the fighting, I reasoned that anybeast could turn out to be our enemy ... or our ally. The lands are full of vermin and foxes and other species who are the traditional bane of decent creatures. If the threat to peace is to come from without, from Tratton and his searats or some dark kingdom as yet unknown to us, then the vermin of Mossflower and the Northlands will no doubt ally themselves with the invaders and fight against the goodbeasts of the lands. Then again, perhaps the threat is to come from within our own territories. Warlords have emerged from less likely places than your own Mossflower Woods, and a chieftain who could unite all rats, foxes, weasels, stoats and ferrets - and teach them how to wage real war - would prove as deadly to us as any searat king or invading army from parts unknown. In either case, it is clear that the vermin living among us are a danger and a threat, and one that must be eliminated."

And with that, Urthblood reached for his tumbler of water and helped himself to a long draught of it.

It was easy to draw the obvious conclusion from the badger's words. Most of the Redwallers were so shocked by what Urthblood seemed to be suggesting that Abbess Vanessa took it upon herself to address the issue before he could continue.

"My Lord, if your plan is to slaughter all the vermin and foxes of Mossflower, then we must oppose you. Such a tactic might be acceptable in the Northlands, but we could not sit idly by and allow such a thing to take place in Mossflower, much less be a part of it. If this is what you're suggesting ... "

Urthblood raised a paw to stop her. "You misunderstand me. It is true that I have slain many beasts in the north, but only those who proved themselves my enemy by word or deed. I could never kill all the vermin of the lands, even if I were to labor at such a task for another twenty seasons, and another twenty after that." He shook his head. "No, what I am attempting is far more ambitious than such a slaughter ... although you may question it nearly as much."

The Redwallers didn't know what to make of this. "Go on," Vanessa said.

"There is a saying in the north that an enemy kept close at paw is less dangerous than one held at a distance. My plan, quite simply, is to keep our potential enemies so close that they are given no chance to become our enemies. An invading warlord would not be able to use our weasels, rats and foxes as weapons against us, if we have already forged them into a weapon of our own."

Old Abbot Arlyn adjusted the spectacles on the end of his nose. "Are you saying, Lord, that you mean to take some of these creatures into your service, and put them under arms?"

"Not some. All."

"Impossible!" Alexander cried out, displaying more of the agitation he'd shown the day before over the tree-cutting proposal.

"It has already begun," said Urthblood. "In the north, I have laid down my gauntlet far and wide to every rat, fox, weasel, ferret and stoat in those lands: join my cause for the benefit of all creatures, or remain my enemy and be slain. You would be amazed to learn how many have already chosen my service over continued struggle and death."

Vanessa said to Urthblood, "Not having seen it with my own eyes, I must say I share Alexander's skepticism. What you describe is difficult for us to imagine. Please tell us more about how you have done this."

"Certainly. I believe nearly every creature is born with a noble spirit, and evil ways must be learned. Only a very few become truly evil beyond all redemption. If those few are eliminated and their influence wiped clean from the face of the lands, then most of their followers can be made to serve the cause of good rather than evil. Most vermin are misguided and lacking in a decent upbringing. And since honest ceatures tend to shun and distrust them, they are given no chance to prove their decency. Their noble spirit is given no freedom to flower. Inevitably they band together with others of their own kind, and that is where they learn savage ways and selfishness, with the truly evil ones emerging as horde leaders, captains, tyrants and warlords, since they will put down and murder even their fellow vermin to gain power.

"This is how it has been for more generations than anybeast can remember. And it has led to great suffering and constant war. But with the coming crisis, these old ways must be abandoned if we hope to survive. All creatures must learn to trust one another, to live peacefully side by side. This I truly believe is our best hope to weather the coming storm, and perhaps even prevent it. And all my efforts these past twenty seasons have been aimed toward achieving this goal.

"As to how I have been going about this, it has proven simpler than you might suppose. Everytime word reaches me of a horde terrorizing goodbeasts, I assemble my forces and march to meet it in battle. So far, I have never lost. Once the horde leaders are slain, along with any other of their numbers I judge to be treacherous or dangerous, I offer their surviving followers the choice to join my army, or lay down their arms to never again trouble decent creatures, upon pain of death. As you may imagine, I have not had to face many of them on the battlefield a second time. And most do join me, rather than try to fend for themselves in the wild, leaderless and subject to the ill will of goodbeasts they'd formerly terrorized."

"I don't see how you can control them all," commented Vanessa. "If you truly have armed them and trained them well, aren't you concerned that some of the nastier ones might try to kill you and take command of your army as their own horde?"

"There were several attempts to do just that in the early days of my campaigns. Everybeast who tried is dead now, while I am still very much alive."

This simple statement of fact sent chills down the spines of several of the Redwallers.

"It has been several seasons since any would-be tyrant from within my own ranks has challenged me. But most of my soldiers are decent creatures who would never accept the leadership of such a beast. The many shrews, otters, squirrels and mice under my command ensure that no evil-minded vermin would ever be able to take over my forces, even if they should succeed in killing me."

"All those woodland creatures?" Vanessa said in surprise. "They march alongside vermin and foxes?"

"That is the entire point of my enterprise," said Urthblood. "We have all put aside past differences for the greater good of all. My troops no longer look upon each other as rats or mice, otters or foxes, shrews or weasels. They are all fighters working toward a common goal, each judged solely according to its ability, and each given the same respect that any creature would want for itself."

Quiet fell over Cavern Hole. No revelation of Urthblood's could have aroused a greater mix of conflicted feeling among the Redwallers. Their order had been founded on the very principle that Urthblood had just spoken. Redwall was a haven and sanctuary for all beasts in need, no matter their species. Even Cluny the Scourge had been extended the Abbey's hospitality, until he showed his hostile intentions. On the other paw, they'd suffered so much loss from these creatures throughout their history that they'd come to regard all vermin as enemies. The idea that Urthblood had taken so many of these beasts into his service and placed them under arms was an unsettling one to them, regardless of the Badger Lord's assurances.

Brother Geoff had been rendered speechless by all of this. Finding his voice at last, he said, "I still cannot believe how this could possibly work. Tell us, just how successful you have been in controlling your vermin, and how the other Northlanders feel about what you are doing."

"Things in the north have always been pretty much the same as here," Urthblood explained. "That is to say, there are the decent, honest creatures, many of whom farm for a living, and then there are the thieves and barbarians who produce nothing for themselves and must take what they need from others or else starve. I took a long look at this state of affairs, and realized that if the farmers and growers of food did not have to expend so much effort fighting off those who would steal it, they could produce much more ... enough to feed the very foes who would otherwise take it by force. And harvests have indeed improved in the regions where I have been at work, with many formerly barren acres now transformed into fertile and productive croplands. The vermin who in the past would have raided these farms now march under my banner to protect those very harvests. It is a new way, and one that benefits everybeast. The honest creatures no longer live in fear of losing everything to a raiding horde, and the vermin no longer go hungry. A beast who knows where its next meal is coming from is much less likely to cause trouble. And I do keep my troops well fed."

"Sounds like a paradise," Geoff said skeptically, then shrank in his seat at the narrow-eyed gaze the badger warrior trained upon him.

"Hardly. The lands are still harsh, and many foebeasts remain outside my control. And there are good-hearted creatures who have known the old ways for so long that they will always be suspicious of their former enemies. But by creating this standing army, I have not only forged a potent weapon to meet the coming crisis, but also found a solution to the ages-old history of conflict between vermin and honest creatures. It is a fundamental change in the way things have always been, and something that should have been attempted long before now. So much sufferng could have been prevented."

It was then that Montybank asked a question which had not occurred to any of his fellow Redwallers.

"I say, M'Lord, how does yer brother feel 'bout all this? Can't imagine too many badgers-in-arms wantin' to cozy up to rats 'n' weasels. Or his fightin' hares wantin' to march alongside 'em."

"He has not involved himself in my campaigns," Urthblood replied coolly.

"And why would that be?" the Abbess pressed, when it became clear Urthblood did not intend to elaborate further.

"My brother Urthfist has all he can do to hold Salamandastron and the coastlands against King Tratton and the searats. I have followed my own path for the sake of the salvation of the lands, and he has followed his. One of us had to remain at Salamandastron, obviously. By holding the coastlands secure, he has allowed me the freedom to pursue what I feel is the best hope for all creatures. His work has been no less vital than my own. I have not visited my mountain home in many seasons. I am hoping to journey there once I leave Redwall, if circumstances allow."

The tone of impassioned authority and finality in his tone was such that not one of the Redwallers noticed Urthblood had not answered Monty's question at all.

"I still say this is a dangerous thing you are doing," Geoff insisted. "As Redwall's historian, I am very well versed in the ways our Abbey has suffered at the paws of power-hungry vermin over the seasons. It seems to me that you could be creating a terrible engine of destruction, which might prove unstoppable if it should ever turn against us."

"If you know how the lands have suffered under the old ways," the Badger Lord calmly responded, "then you more than anybeast should see the truth of all I have said here."

"Well, yes, but ... if the force of your will proves insufficient to keep your war machine under control ... "

"Ahh ... But you should not underestimate the force of my will. It has already allowed me to tame much of the Northlands and slay many of the worst horde leaders. A prophecy of doom was laid upon me twenty seasons ago, when I was touched by the paw of fate. This has never left me. The force of my will has the power of destiny behind it." Urthblood drew his sword and laid it upon the table amidst the breakfast items. It was the first time any of the Redwallers had glimpsed the blade up close; the mighty weapon was dull with age and use, except along its double cutting edges, which shone with a keen sharpness where they weren't notched or pitted. While not as splendid as the majestic sword of Martin, it was every bit as much the blade of a true warrior.

"The evil beasts of the north have come to know this weapon well, and those who still survive fear it. But its power goes beyond killing. This blade has also made enemies into allies, and brought peace of mind to terrorized goodbeasts. No enemy has been able to best me since I began my Northlands campaigns, and it is my intention that none ever shall. My actions are to create peace, not destroy it."

Urthblood addressed the entire council. "I have told you all of this for several reasons. First, you are entitled to an explanation of what I have been doing in the Northlands, and why. I had promised you this, and now I have fulfilled that promise.

"More important was the fact that you heard this from me rather than somebeast else. I have made enemies in my campaigns, many of whom realize they would stand no chance against me on the battlefield. These foes must resort to another weapon instead: lies. Since my aims could be easily misunderstood, my enemies often try to divide the honest creatures with falsehoods about what I am trying to do, creating distrust among the allies I must have to complete my work. If they had somehow managed to tell you that I have taken vermin and foxes into my ranks before I'd had the opportunity to properly explain myself, then they might have succeeded in sowing doubts and suspicions among you. I took a chance waiting as long as I did, but I wanted to address the defenses of this Abbey before all else. And what I have told you this morning could only have been said at a full council, as I am sure you all understand."

"Yes, I can see why," Vanessa concurred. "But I have a question. You have told us that some of your forces are right here in Mossflower. I take it there are vermin among them?"

"Naturally. When I was getting ready to journey south, I chose to accompany me those troops whose skills would be of greatest benefit. They were selected for their abilites as individuals, not their species."

"Still," said Arlyn, "it was chancy bringing such a force to our lands, where creatures like that are held in suspicion and distrust."

"There has been no trouble so far," Urthblood said. "But that is another reason I wanted to inform you of all this. Someday you may see a group of creatures traveling these lands, and that group might include rats or foxes, stoats or ferrets, or may even be headed by such a beast. You can no longer assume that they are enemies, because they might be mine."

"How will we be able to tell?" asked the Abbess.

"For the near future, I will be here to let you know which creatures are in my service. But even after I leave Redwall, you will know. My soldiers carry themselves with a dignity that no thief or villain would be able to imitate. And if you see woodlanders such as otters, mice and shrews marching with them, you will know them to be friends."

Montybank gave Alexander a knowing nudge with his elbow. "Can't say I've ever seen a rat or weasel wot was dignified. Hafta see it to believe it."

"No," agreed Alex, "although a fox could probably put on a good show of it. Those crafty beasts can fool a woodlander into believing anything."

Urthblood turned to the otter and squirrel. "You are not the first goodbeasts to show such doubts. And if you should someday chance to meet any of my troops, I am sure you will also not be the first to be pleasantly surprised, so long as you keep an open mind."

"Can we expect to see them here at Redwall anytime soon?" asked the Abbess. "You said you'd give us some notice, so we can prepare to receive them."

"My forces move as the situation dictates," Urthblood replied. "We shall see what the days ahead bring."

"As long as your band is so close, they might as well visit Redwall," old Arlyn suggested. "After all, they've come so far. And it would give us a chance to see for ourselves your noble and honest vermin."

"Although," added Vanessa, "you would have to promise that they would cause no harm if we let them into our Abbey."

"Of course. I am here to aid and assist Redwall. I would never permit anything that would harm goodbeasts, or disrupt their way of life."

"Bit too late for that last part," Alexander whispered to Montybank from the corner of his mouth.

00000000000

Vanessa, Arlyn and Foremole remained at the table with Lord Urthblood after the others had left to resume their regular duties. They wanted to discuss the proposed Great Hall stairs.

"Facts be facts, gennelmoice," Foremole said to the Abbess and retired Abbot. "Thurr doan't be enuff stone 'n' wood at our Habbey t' carnstruct ee starway so hoigh. Uz'll need t' reopern ee quarry."

"That's more work than we bargained for," Vanessa said. "The quarry is a good half day's march to the east, on the other side of the River Moss. We'll need shrew boats to ferry tools and workers across, and to bring back the cut stone. Building these stairs could take us until next winter, or even spring!"

"There should be no problem cutting the necessary stone and timber and getting it all to Redwall before the start of the cold winter weather," Urthblood rumbled. "My blueprints are most precise. We will know to the exact brick and beam what will be required, and in what sizes. Once all the material is on paw, construction can commence at its own speed. Since all the work from that point on will take place indoors, it can be done even in the chill depths of winter."

"Still, it will be a greater task than we envisioned," Arlyn nodded.

"But it might well be worth the ... " Vanessa let her voice trail off in midsentence as the faint sound of the Matthias and Methuselah bells came down into Cavern Hole. She cocked her head and listened for a moment. "Oh, no not another storm!"

Arlyn listened along with her. "I think that's what it's supposed to be, but Maura's making the same mistake as last time, so it sounds more like the call to arms. Funny ... with the training she's had with Cyril and Cyrus, I'd have thought she'd be able to get it right this time."

"Well, I'd best go see what it's all about," said the Abbess. "I hope it's a false alarm. The last thing our poor beleaguered gardens need is another storm! If you'll excuse me, My Lord."

Vanessa went up the stairs into Great Hall and was on her way to go outside when the squirrel Elmwood appeared in the doorway in front of her. He stopped with one paw on the jamb, breathing hard as if he'd just run down from the wallsteps. "Abbess ... there you are! I was just ... coming to get you," he panted.

"Storm coming, Elmwood?" Vanessa asked, lifting a paw to indicate the bells.

Elmwood shook his head. "Army coming ... down the road. Huge one. Vermin ... must be hundreds of 'em. And they're armed for battle!"

Vanessa's eyebrows shot up. Could it possibly be? No, Urthblood had indicated his presence here in Mossflower was a small detachment of his main forces. "Are you sure it's not just a score or two?"

"Oh no, Abbess ma'am. I was up on the wall ... I saw 'em myself. It's like Cluny's army reborn, and marching straight toward us. Hundreds at least ... maybe a thousand."

"All vermin? Or are there any woodlanders marching with them?"

"Huh?" The question made no sense to Elmwood, who had not yet been appraised of the morning council. "Uh, why would there be?"

Vanessa glanced back over her shoulder toward Cavern Hole, where Urthblood still tarried with Foremole and Arlyn. Should she go inform them? No, first things first. She looked at Elmwood again. "I guess I'd better get out there to see this for myself."

00000000000

The ramparts atop the west wall were crowded with Redwallers, alerted to the approaching horde by the squirrel lookouts and Maura's mighty bellringing efforts. The squirrels had been the first to spot the giant dust cloud from the road, rising above the forest canopy to the north. Two hot summer days since the storm had dried the main path enough so that any large group of marchers would raise plumes of dust to mark their passage. And by the look of the roiling brown-white cloud hovering over the treetops, this army must be huge.

Elmwood had stuck around long enough for the actual marchers to become visible in the distance. Seeing that they were indeed vermin carrying weapons of war, he'd raced down the wallstairs to fetch the Abbess and Alexander and Montybank and anybeast else of authority he could find. Maura, out with the children on the lawns, heard his report and ran to sound the bells. Now the badger matriarch met Vanessa and Elmwood at the foot of the wall stairs, following them up to the walltop.

"Monty and his otters are checking all the wall gates to make sure they're securely bolted and locked," Maura informed them, breathing hard from her climb up and down the bell tower. "If this horde means to make trouble, they'll have a tough time getting into Redwall."

"Let's hope they didn't bring a battering ram," Elmwood worried.

"No problem if they did," Alexander announced from above, striding along the walltop to greet them at the top of the steps with longbow in paw. "I was just getting ready to take out a patrol when I heard the bells and all the shouting. We've got bows strung and quivers packed, enough to pick off scores of vermin if they try anything like that." He glanced out at the approaching army. "If they are vermin," he muttered under his breath.

Elmwood took his place at the battlements, reading his own bow. "So long as they don't have archers of their own, shooting back at us, sir."

"Maybe I should get some cauldrons from the kitchens," Maura suggested, "and start boiling some oil up here in case we need it to pour on them."

"Maura!" Vanessa declared, surprised that her badger friend could even entertain such a bloodthirsty notion. "We don't even know if these beasts are our enemies yet. Let's save that kind of talk until we find out who they are."

"They sure aren't friends, from what I saw," said Elmwood.

Maura and Vanessa stepped up to the battlements themselves, and immediately saw both the dust cloud telltales above the trees, and the creatures who were kicking it up. Vanessa gasped in spite of herself; not even Elmwood's description had prepared her for the sight of so many beasts marching in brisk military formation. The low thundering of so many stamping footpaws could be faintly heard from here, although the leading edge of the horde was still too distant to make out individual beasts in the shimmering air of summer morning.

Maura looked to the keen-eyed squirrels, who were raptly scanning the immense troop column. "What can you see? Are they all vermin, or are there any woodland creatures among them?"

The badger's question mystified most of the squirrels, but Alexander knew what she was getting at. "You mean, what Urthblood told us about this morning? But this can't be them ... there are too many!"

"That's what I was thinking myself," said Vanessa. "But we have to be sure. What do you see?"

Alex squinted his eyes as he peered into the distance. "Hard to tell yet. This far away, otters can look like weasels and squirrels can look like foxes, even to us. And that dust they're putting up isn't any help. But I'll wager my bushtail that those are foxes I see marching ahead of the rest ... " He strained harder, shading his eyes with one paw, "... backed up by weasels, ferrets and stoats."

"All vermin," Maura said somberly.

Little Droge the hedgehog had led a few of his young playmates up to the ramparts at the sound of the bells, hoping to see another monster storm looming on the horizon. What he saw now suited him even better. "Lookit that horde!" he exclaimed with glee. "Must be the hugest army ever t' pass through Mossflower!"

"Uh, Maura," Vanessa motioned to the badger, "please take these young ones down from here. I don't want them in harm's way, in case there's any trouble."

"But Motha' Abbess!" Droge protested. "We wanna see th' army!"

"You've seen all you need to," Maura said in her no-nonsense manner. "Down we go now ... follow me!" Fortunately, Droge's friends were less enchanted and more fearful at the sight of the horde, and were more than happy to follow Maura and Droge down onto the lawns.

Alexander gazed at the approaching army in consternation. "Those can't be Lord Urthblood's troops. There are just too many! And all of them vermin."

"Well, there's one beast who can answer this question for us. If those are his troops, I want Urthblood up here to tell us, and to explain what so many are doing in Mossflower. And if they're not, I still want him here to help us organize our defenses against this horde. That's what he keeps telling us he's come to Redwall for ... so somebeast please go get him! He's down in Cavern Hole with Foremole."

Elmwood jumped to do his Abbess's bidding, racing down the wallsteps once more.

All around them, Redwallers who still hadn't heard about Urthblood having vermin in his service were naturally assuming that the Abbey was under attack.

"Look at that horde! We could never stand against them!"

"They'll lay siege to the Abbey, and batter down the gates!"

"What should we do?"

"We'll be overrun, shore 'nuff."

A clanging of steel against stone instantly silenced the panicked Abbeydwellers, and everybeast turned to see Montybank standing on the top step of the wall stairs, the sword of Martin in his paw.

"Let's not be hasty, folks! Mayhaps these ain't our enemies. But if'n they are, we'll give 'em th' same kinda fight Redwall's given every blusterin' brute who's ever crossed us, and send their survivors runnin' with tails 'tween their legs. This here's Redwall, an' no foebeast will lay claim to it while I'm Skipper of otters!"

Balla the hedgehog cellarkeeper voiced the question shared by many of the other Redwallers around her. "Huh? Whattaya mean, they may not be enemies? They're vermin, an' they're armed fer war. No horde like that 'un has ever passed us by without tryin' t' take Redwall for their own."

"This time could be different," Vanessa told Balla. "I hope." She glanced down and saw Urthblood striding across the Abbey lawns behind Elmwood toward the west wall steps. "Ah, there he is. Maybe now we can get some answers, and find out whether we are facing friend or foe."

The badger warrior climbed the stairs and joined them on the walltop, showing no more emotion than he ever did. "My Lord," Vanessa said to him, "we seem to be under attack, but we can't be sure after what you told us earlier. Please," she pointed out over the battlements at the approaching army, "tells us what this means to you."

To everybeast's surprise, Urthblood reached down and detached a small metal tube from the side of his armor. Vanessa had assumed it was some mere decoration, but now saw that it was a separate device of the same red steel as his armor, held in place by a spring clamp. Their puzzlement grew when he pulled at it, and the tube suddenly became twice as long as before. Urthblood twisted off metal caps from either end of the instrument, revealing the sparkle of highly polished glass lenses. Holding the tube up to one eye, the badger sighted through it at the approaching warbeasts.

Vanessa didn't want to disturb Urthblood, who seemed wholly concentrated on whatever it was that he was doing. "Uh ... My Lord ... "

Urthblood lowered the tube and called out in a booming voice, "Open the gate!"

The Redwallers were too startled to move right away; many thought their badger guest had gone mad. "Open the gates, Lord?" Elmwood asked, confused.

Urthblood gestured toward the distant army with his metal tube. "They carry the standard of the Crimson Badger. This is my army."


	10. Chapter 10

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Ten

For many moments the Redwallers on the ramparts around Urthblood merely stared at him, especially those who had not been privy to the morning's council; more than one jaw hung agape in disbelief. Some turned to look anew over the wall at the nearing army, seeing it now in a different light but no less awed by its size. In the hazy summer distance the masses of ranked marchers filled the dry road like a giant rippling snake winding its way down a narrow muddy stream, its width spanning from bank to bank. The midmorning sun glinted from a sea of shields, spears, swords and other instruments of war. It was the largest army that Redwall had seen since the horde of Cluny the Scourge.

Vanessa said to Urthblood, her tone quite severe, "You told us you would give us some notice before any large number of your forces came to Redwall, so we would have time to properly prepare for them."

"I also told you," Urthblood answered unapologetically, "that I would try to arrange a demonstration to prove to you that a large horde could come upon Redwall without warning. My troops force-marched through the night to provide this. Later I will discuss with you when we may commence cutting down the trees outside the wall, now that I have proven my point. But first I must go out and greet my captains. Please have the gate opened, Abbess."

Vanessa made no move to comply. "No trees will be felled until we have given that matter a great deal more thought and discussion." She could see Alexander standing behind Urthblood, and had spoken as much to the squirrel as to the badger. "More to the point, when you told us at the meeting this morning that you had some vermin in your service, you gave no indication that nearly all your soldiers were such beasts. I see no woodlanders in that horde out there."

"You are not looking closely enough," Urthblood said matter-of-factly. "Some of the marchers you mistake for stoats, ferrets and weasels at this distance are actually otters; I have many of those in my service. And there is a squirrel in the front ranks with the foxes. Farther back in the column, as you will shortly see, are squads of hedgehogs, shrews and mice. They are hidden by the taller creatures in front of them." He held out his metal tube. "Here. See for yourself."

Alexander reached around Urthblood and grabbed the tube before the Abbess could take it. Turning it over in his paws, he asked, "Ur ... what does this do?"

"I call it a long glass. It makes things far away look closer. Point the wide end at the army, and gaze through the narrow lens with one eye, as I just did."

Alex was skeptical, but did as told. When he finally had it sighted properly and gazed through the device, he gave a start and stepped backward, almost throwing himself off the high wall onto the Abbey lawns below.

"Gads!" Steadying himself, Alexander gave the tube in his paws an incredulous, amazed stare. "It's like they're right in front of me." Going back to the outer edge of the ramparts, he gave a second, longer peer through the instrument. "Oh, yes, I can see the otters now ... and the squirrel, a female ... can't see any smaller beasts, the rear of the column is hidden by too much dust. By the fur, that army is huge!" The squirrel chief passed the long glass to Vanessa for the Abbess to have a look for herself, then turned to the Badger Lord. "You led us to believe that only a small part of your forces came with you to Mossflower."

"That is correct. For every soldier you see on that road, I have a score more back in the Northlands."

Alex gaped. "But ... that would be thousands and thousands!"

Urthblood merely nodded. "The Northlands are a big place."

Vanessa lowered the long glass, passing it along to Montybank, who was eagerly awaiting his own turn to peer through it. "From what I see, Lord, the vermin out there still outnumber woodlanders by quite a bit. Will it be safe to have so many coming to Redwall?"

"I will vouch for their good behavior, Abbess. They will know better than to cause you any trouble."

Still Vanessa gave no order to have the gate opened. "My Lord, we have taken you at your word in everything you have told us since coming here. But the safety of this Abbey and its creatures is my responsibility. I will not admit so many vermin into Redwall until I am quite satisfied for myself that they will pose no danger."

"I understand. I can review the troops just as easily out in the road. You may join me if you wish."

"We both will," Alexander said, placing a protective paw on Vanessa's shoulder.

"Us, too," added Montybank, speaking for his otters.

"Obviously," Urthblood went on, "there are not enough rooms or beds in the Abbey for any but a small few of my forces. I'd intended that they could camp out on your lawns, but if you cannot bring yourselves to allow certain creatures within these walls, I can station them in the field outside the south wall."

"We'll see," Vanessa said.

For the next few minutes they all stood in silence upon the walltop, watching as the mighty army drew up before Redwall. A score of foxes, garbed in black tunics and wearing broadswords, headed the column, along with a strong-looking female squirrel who carried a full quiver of arrows and a majestic yew longbow. The lead fox jumped forward as the column came to the gate, turning himself to face the marchers. Drawing his sword and raising it high, he called out the order to halt. The massive procession came to a staggered, shuffling stop as the order made its way back through the ranks. Under the bright morning sun, all the dust that their paws had kicked up now began to settle back down upon the hundreds of warriors, and the Redwallers up on the battlements could truly see just how vast Urthblood's forces in Mossflower really were.

Abbess Vanessa's breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. "My Lord, do you mean to capture Redwall? Because this force is certainly large enough to do so."

"Do not even joke about such a thing, Abbess. If the goodbeasts of the lands supposed for even a moment that I might misuse the power I have amassed, all my work could be undone."

Urthblood turned and started down the wall steps. "Come, I will show you that my beasts are, for the most part, honorable ones."

Alexander whispered to Vanessa as they descended behind the Badger Lord, "Were you joking? About him capturing Redwall?"

"I'm ... not sure," she replied uncertainly.

00000000000

It was a large and curious group of Redwallers that followed Urthblood down to the main gate. Old Abbot Arlyn had run down to the archives to fetch Geoff and Winokur, who'd been rounding up records for their walltop reading and were unaware of the happenings above. Now the three of them joined Vanessa, Alexander, Montybank, Maura and Elmwood as part of Redwall's welcoming committee for Urthblood's army.

The otter guards unbolted the gate and swung it open so that the Badger Lord and the Redwall leaders could pass outside for their review of the army. A great many others followed after them, but hung back in the shadows under the wall, reluctant to fully expose themselves to so many armed vermin.

Urthblood strode up to the fox who appeared to be the captain, and the squirrel archer standing alongside him. "Your report, Machus."

The fox saluted crisply. "Nothing unusual, My Lord. As you can see, we made good time from the north of Mossflower last night. Full company present, no casualties. We have encountered no foebeasts since the battle with the crows."

"Very good. Tell the troops to stand at ease, and hold here. There is some uncertainty as to where they will be housed."

"Yes, My Lord." Machus relayed the order, and immediately the forward fighters relaxed their stance. But nobeast broke the neat military ranks within the column.

Abbess Vanessa and her fellow Redwallers scrutinized the soldiers, especially the score of foxes near the front. While they no longer stood straight at attention, they kept their gazes directed forward, and did not return the woodlander's curious stares with any of their own, as might have been expected from a gang of unruly vermin. Vanessa almost felt she was looking at a new kind of creature she'd never seen before. Lord Urthblood's "honorable vermin" actually appeared to be a reality, even though she'd not been able to seriously credit the idea before now.

Urthblood beckoned for the squirrel and Machus to join him where he stood with the Redwall leaders, just outside the main gate. "Abbess, please allow me to introduce Machus the Sword, my Captain of the Guard and Chief of my swordfox brigade." The fox nodded and gave a formal half-bow, but said nothing. "And this is Lady Mina, of the Gawtrybe squirrels. The Gawtrybe are my most important ally in the Northlands; they have sworn me absolute fealty, and their archery skills are without equal. I could not have enjoyed the success that I have without them."

The gallant squirrel Lady bowed deeply to the Abbess and her companions. Alexander and Elmwood were riveted by the sight of the proud and powerful Gawtrybe female; Alex was positive that Lady Mina was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon.

But the gaze of Vanessa and the others went quickly back to Machus. He was a tall fox, lean and well-muscled, garbed in a black uniform jacket. His only weapon seemed to be the sword slung at his side, but the size of the scabbard hinted at its large size - more than enough to make any woodlander apprehensive.

"Machus and Mina are my senior officers on this campaign." Lord Urthblood motioned toward the open gate. "Let us now go inside, and together we will decide how my forces will be stationed."

Geoff began frantically whispering in Vanessa's ear, not quite so softly that the others could not overhear, "Not the fox! Not the fox!"

Urthblood shifted his gaze to the recorder mouse. "Is there some problem?"

Geoff stepped forward, drawing himself up to his full height as he addressed the Badger Lord. "Redwall has suffered greatly at the paws of foxes over the generations. Why, the slaver Slagar alone murdered the beloved historian Methuselah, for whom one of our bells is named, as well as Redwall's friar and several others ... not to mention kidnapping some of the Abbey children, including Mattimeo, son of Matthias." Geoff turned to the Abbess. "Vanessa, I do not think we should allow this creature into our home."

Machus addressed Vanessa and Geoff directly, in a polite and formal manner. "Those are indeed evil deeds you describe, friend, no doubt committed by an evil beast. But, I am not that fox."

"Please do not presume to call me 'friend' until I know you better," Geoff said to Machus somewhat frostily.

"Then I hope you will give me the chance for you to do so," Machus replied with forced civility.

Urthblood looked to Vanessa. "Abbess, is this the kind of hospitality for which Redwall is famous?"

"Geoff has a point, My Lord. However undiplomatically he may have expressed it. This is a matter that bears some discussion."

"Are foxes in general banned from this Abbey?"

"Well, no ... "

"Then where is the problem? Machus is a beast of high honor. He is also my chief captain. I cannot be running outside the Abbey every time I must confer with him. He deserves to be part of our councils. Since you have never met him and do not know him, you have no grounds to exclude him from Redwall."

Alexander tore his attention away from Lady Mina, not at all pleased by the prospect of a fox being invited into his home. As squirrel chief of the Mossflower Patrol, he'd had to deal with villainous foxes on a number of occasions. "The Abbess decides who enters Redwall, My Lord, and who doesn't."

Urthblood continued as if Alexander had not spoken. "Abbess, you have granted me certain authority in matters of this Abbey's defense. In the name of Redwall's security, I am saying that Machus must be allowed to enter with us. I give you my word of honor as a warrior that he is an honest creature who will cause you no trouble. Now, is he still forbidden to pass through this gate?"

"I never said he was forbidden," Vanessa said stiffly, "merely that this bore more discussion." She turned to the swordfox. "Friend Machus, are you willing to yield your blade to me while you dwell at our Abbey?"

Machus hesitated the merest instant, then reached for his weapon. "If those are the rules you have set, then I will abide by them." He drew the sword from its scabbard and presented it to her hilt-first. "Please keep it well. It is most dear to me."

Alexander stepped in front of Vanessa to spare the Abbess from having to take the heavy sword herself. The squirrel glanced down at what lay in his paw ... and then his eyes went wide with amazement. The other Redwallers around him stared at the blade with jaws agape. For some moments everybeast was struck speechless; then a shadow of anger crossed Alexander's face. "Urthblood, is this supposed to be some kind of joke?"

"What do you mean?"

Alex looked to his longtime otter friend. "Show him, Monty."

Montybank strode forward, drawing the sword of Martin from the scabbard at his waist. He held it out alongside the blade Machus had presented them.

The two swords were nearly identical!

There were minor differences. The pommel stones were a slightly different shade of red from one another, and the workbeastship of the hilt on the Northlander's sword was somewhat cruder. But the blade was every bit as keen and splendid as the Redwall weapon's, not dark and notched like Urthblood's sword but perfect as the day it was forged. Even the point angles and the depth and length of the blood channel seemed identical. If the two of them had not been held side-by-side for comparison, every Abbeybeast there could easily have mistaken this new weapon for the cherished sword of Martin.

Machus stood as amazed as anybeast. If the fox had suspected that such a near-double of his own weapon was to be found at Redwall, he was doing a very good job of faking surprise.

"How do you explain this?" Geoff demanded of Urthblood.

"I did not know that I had to. Did I not tell you, on my very first day at Redwall, that I had once made a sword very similar to the one Boar the Fighter had crafted for Martin?"

"You did not tell us it was identical!" Vanessa exclaimed, more flabbergasted than angry.

"They are not identical," Urthblood calmly pointed out. "Boar's work is admittedly finer. But then, I crafted Machus's sword in a makeshift forge in the Northlands, not in the great fires of Salamandastron."

"But, why did you copy Martin's sword?" Vanessa asked. "The similarity could only be by design."

"It was not."

"But, then how ... "

"Who can say what forces speak through a beast who is creating something? I know that the voice of destiny spoke through me when I carved my prophecy into the walls of Salamandastron. Perhaps the spirit of Boar the Fighter guided my paw as I forged this blade ... just as the spirit of Martin the Warrior comes to Redwallers in times of need. You know I have never been to Redwall before. I had never set eyes upon that sword, seen a picture of it, or heard any description detailed enough to have recreated it so faithfully. Yet the similarity is indeed too great to be coincidence. We can only conclude that greater powers are at play here, and leave it at that."

"I suppose ... " Every Redwaller believed in the spirit of Martin; there was no question in their minds that their founding Warrior watched over them to this day. And they had accepted Urthblood's warning of a dire prophecy without a second thought, for it was well known that the Badger Lords of Salamandastron were indeed gifted and cursed with such powers to glimpse the future. Urthblood's explanation of the two swords made sense; indeed, there could be no other. Here clearly was proof and reminder that this badger's existence was not confined to the everyday world of flesh and blood creatures. Only his powers of prophetic vision could account for the sword he had made for Machus.

Urthblood turned to his fox captain. "Before you accompany us inside, Machus, tell the troops they may go around to the south wall and rest there. It may be some time before we reach a decision about which creatures may enter the Abbey, and I would not keep them standing in the road, given how tired they must be from the march. You may as well have Foremole get started on some sanitation trenches in the meadow there, since I'm sure most of the soldiers are in need of relief."

The Redwallers were taken aback anew. "Uh, Lord Urthblood," Vanessa ventured, "did I just hear you tell Machus to issue orders to our Foremole?"

"Not yours. Mine."

"You have your own Foremole?" Arlyn asked in surprise.

"Naturally. My Tunnel and Trencher Corps of moles has made a difference in more than one of my Northlands battles. Make no mistake, they are trained fighters - everybeast who marches with me knows how to handle a weapon - but I prefer to save them from open battle, using their digging skills which are unmatched by any creature. An army of this size must contain more than mere fighting beasts."

Machus had already started trotting toward the column to send Urthblood's troops around to the south side of the Abbey. Urthblood called out after the fox, "Oh, and Machus ... tell our newest otter recruit that he may come into Redwall with us. I am sure the Abbess will have no objections."

"Yes, My Lord." Machus issued the orders, and the ranked beasts resumed their forward movement. As the army moved past the Abbey gate on its way to the fields south of Redwall, an otter who'd stood a few rows back from the lead marchers separated from the column and joined Machus as the swordfox strolled back to Urthblood and the others.

The otter grinned roguishly and waved at the Abbey leaders in a most unmilitary manner. "Hullo, everybeast! Thought it were high time I came back to see how you stodgy Redwall lot was doin'." The graying riverbeast gestured over his shoulder. "An' as you c'n see, I brought some friends along, harr harr!"

Monty almost dropped the sword of Martin. "Warnokur? Well, thump me rudder! What're you doin' with this crowd?"

Urthblood jumped in to explain. "Warnokur has been in my service for nearly a season. He met up with some of my Northlands otters on the far northern fringes of Mossflower late last spring. No doubt he thought being part of such an army would amount to little more than a chance for adventure for himself ... As you can see, he has yet to master the art of discipline."

Warnokur belatedly stiffened to attention and snapped a sheepish salute to the Badger Lord. "Ur, sorry, M'Lord. Permission to visit with me friends an' family?"

"Permission granted."

No sooner had Warnokur stepped toward the gate than his son Winokur came bounding out past the Abbess to catch up the grizzled wayfarer in an enthusiastic embrace, right out in the middle of the road. "Dad!"

Many creatures in the still-passing column - rats, shrews, ferrets, stoats, mice, moles and weasels - gave snickering glances toward their embarrassed comrade.

Montybank came up alongside the father-and-son reunion. The otter Skipper shared some of Sister Aurelia's opinions about Warnokur's delinquent parenting of his only child, but his heart could not help but be moved by the joy Winokur and Warnokur displayed upon seeing each other. "Well, Warny, you've shore gone an' done it this time, bringin' a whole blinkin' army along with you!"

"Had ter, Monty matey. They're 'ere t' protect me when Sister 'relia starts wallopin' me skull fer stayin' away so long." Warnokur gave his son a hearty thump on the back that left the younger otter half-winded. "Wink, laddie! Why, ye're almost as big as yer ol' dad! Well, y'do look sharp, an' no mistake - guess Monty here's been doin' a good job with you while I've been away. But yer pappy's part of a real regiment now!"

Vanessa stepped closer to Urthblood. "Are you about finished with your surprises, My Lord, or should we expect any more?"

"Yes," added Geoff, "after all this, I'm half-expecting to see Martin the Warrior himself stepping out of your ranks."

"No chance of that, I can assure you," the badger rumbled. "Even though there were times in the north when I would have welcomed his sword and skill, Martin dwells only here at Redwall. As for any other surprises, you shall just have to wait and see. I know some of you were curious to meet my troops, since you could not fully believe in such a thing as noble vermin. Well, now you will have your chance."

Vanessa and the other Abbey leaders remained in the road by the gate until the last of Urthblood's soldiers paraded past and disappeared from view around the southwest corner of the high wall. It would have been impossible to tell how many beasts were in the column, or even how many of each kind there were, although rats and weasels of various types did seem to outnumber woodlanders by a wide margin, much to the consternation of the Redwallers. All were well armed.

Vanessa clasped her paws in front of her, working them nervously. "It will soon be time for lunch. I will tell Friar Hugh to prepare another special meal for us down in Cavern Hole, My Lord, so that Machus and Lady Mina may dine with us and we may become acquainted."

"Precisely what I would have suggested." Urthblood raised a paw toward the gate. "Shall we?"

The curious onlookers farther back quickly cleared the entranceway when they saw the lean, black-clad fox and the armored badger coming their way. Even Lady Mina was a creature to give a woodlander pause; with her mighty longbow and full quiver, and no-nonsense expression on her face, it was clear that this Gawtrybe squirrel could hold her own in any battle.

Inside the Abbey, Alexander made a point of lagging behind the procession. He discreetly motioned Montybank over to him, whispering loudly, "Get that main gate shut and barred! And make sure all the other wallgates are securely locked, and stay that way. Urthblood may insist his vermin are honest and noble, but I'd hate to find out the hard way that they're not ... not with half a thousand of them camped outside our walls!"

"Already on it, Alex matey! My otter lads 'n' lasses were posted at every gate before that rabble even got 'ere. Nobeast's goin' in or out without our say-so, not even Mr. Red Badger. He c'n keep his soakin' vermin ... noble rats an' foxes me rudder! Don't much fancy th' way they came on us by surprise like that, neither. He knew they was a-comin', an' shoulda told us!"

"I agree," Alex nodded. "My squirrel archers are going to be on the walltop day and night until that horde's gone from here ... and if they think to give us any trouble, they'll find out what good shots we are!"

"Still," Monty mused, "I reckon we oughtta give him th' benefit of th' doubt, at least until we chat with that fox o' his."

"And Lady Mina," added Alex. "I'll be keeping a close eye on her too."

"Oh, I betcher you will!" Monty chided with a playful wink. "Keepin' an eye on that proud squirrelmaid shouldn't be much of a chore fer you t'all!"

Up ahead, Abbess Vanessa turned back to the two defenders. "Alex, Monty, are you coming? Lord Urthblood wants to show his two captains around the Abbey grounds while we're waiting for lunch. I'm sure you'll want to join them."

Alexander appraised the situation at paw. Maura stood towering over Machus, not even trying to disguise her distrust of the fox, while Elmwood and several of the other squirrles of the Mossflower Patrol - all male, he noted - had cemented their attention upon Lady Mina. With so much focus on the two newcomers, Alex felt confident that they would not try anything untoward. Not that he'd expect anything like that from a creature as gallant as the squirrel Lady, but the fox was another matter.

Hefting Machus's sword, Alexander caught up to the others. "Just talking with Monty about the weather, wasn't I, matey?"

"Aye, that 'ee was," the otter Skipper corroborated. "Beauty of a day we're havin' t'day, ain't it? Mostly sunny, with a chance o' scattered vermin!"

00000000000

Young Cyril was still in dreamland, even though the sun was nearing its noontide zenith in the sky over Redwall.

He'd been up until dawn, standing watch with Alexander. After the shift was over, the squirrel archer went straight down to Cavern Hole for the council of Abbey leaders; the Mossflower Patrol leader was still wide awake, even after the long night of lookout duty. Cyril, however, had never stayed up all night in his life, and was near to propping his eyelids open with twigs by the time the eastern sky began to lighten. Only the excitement of their brush with the kite had kept him awake so long, but weariness finally overcame him. When the day shift arrived to relieve them, Cyril splashed more cold water onto his face so that he wouldn't fall asleep halfway down the wall steps. Then he bade Alexander good day, hastened to his room, and climbed into his bed just as his brother Cyrus was getting up and dressed for the day. Cyrus thoughtfully draped a blanket over the window to keep the room dark, then hurried down for breakfast even as Cyril fell almost instantly asleep. Not even the tollings of the Matthias and Methuselah bells to warn of Urthblood's approaching army could interrupt the slumbers of the young mouse, as the morning wore on toward noon.

Cyrus burst into the dormitory room, shouting. "Cyril, wake up! There's an army outside!"

Cyril opened his eyes and sat up groggily. Cyrus had intruded upon some dream, the details of which fled from his memory even as he tried to pin them down. In such a state, his brother's excited words made no sense to him whatsoever.

"Huh? What, an army?" Cyril pawed at his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Nearly noon. They're gonna have lunch down in Cavern Hole, all the Abbey leaders and Lord Urthblood ... "

Cyril shook his head, still not fully awake. "No, that was this morning. He told Alexander last night ... council of leaders, first thing in the morning."

"Well, sure, that was during breakfast," said Cyrus. "But then, when I was down in the archives helping Winokur and Brother Geoff with the records, we heard the bells ringing, and then old Abbot Arlyn came running in to tell us there was a horde coming! You must have heard 'em!"

Cyril tried hard to focus on his brother. "What? Heard the horde? What horde?"

"No, the bells! Didn't you hear them?"

Cyril ran his paws through his headfur as he sat on the edge of his bed. He really needed a few more hours' sleep.

Cyrus prattled on. "Wink's dad Warnokur's with them, and then there's a squirrel Lady with a longbow, and a fox with a sword that looks just like the sword of Martin!"

"Fox? What fox?"

"The one that's down in Cavern Hole right now, having lunch with Lord Urthblood an' the Abbess an' all the rest. Haven't you been listening to me, Cyr?"

Cyril stood, pulling on his habit and slipping into his sandals. He didn't have a clue as to what was going on, but Cyrus was sure excited about something. "I've been listening, but you're not making any sense."

Cyrus huffed indignantly. "There is an army outside our walls," he said slowly and simply, as if addressing an infant. "Biggest one anybeast has ever seen. Must be a thousand of 'em - rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, foxes ... "

Cyril stared in disbelief. "You mean a genuine, honest-to-goodness horde of vermin has Redwall under siege?" Cyril felt his pulse quicken. "Is Urthblood going to help us fight them off?"

"Of course not, silly. It's his army." Cyrus turned to rush back outside. "You really shouldn't sleep so much, Cyr. It makes you muddle-headed."


	11. Chapter 11

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Eleven

It was crowded around the big table in Cavern Hole.

In addition to Urthblood and the eight Abbey leaders - including Highwing, whose Sparra had seen the army's approach while they were out foraging - there was Machus the swordfox and Lady Mina the squirrel archer. Vanessa had also invited Winokur and Warnokur; their joyous reunion would offset the uneasiness of having a fox in their midst and so many armed vermin outside the walls. Also, Warnokur had spent time in Urthblood's service and would provide some insight into that army's activities. And the rogue otter's presence would help keep Urthblood, Machus and Mina honest, in case the Badger Lord and his cohorts were inclined to keep any more surprises from their Redwall hosts.

Machus was carefully seated with Monty and Maura at either paw. Without his sword, the fox was probably harmless, but Vanessa was taking no chances. Either badger or otter would be sure to thoroughly trounce Machus in a bare-pawed fight.

Lady Mina laid aside her quiver and longbow at the bottom step entrance to Cavern Hole, although Vanessa got the impression that this was done more in observance of proper table etiquette than to put the woodlanders at ease. Nobeast had asked her to disarm, and perhaps Mina felt it only right that, if Machus was made to surrender his sword, that she would also give up her weapons, at least for the meal.

Alex made a point of placing himself directly across the table from Lady Mina. He was normally a very courteous and well-mannered beast, but now he would stare unabashedly at Mina for many seconds at a time. Whenever she caught him gazing at her so raptly, he would quickly avert his eyes so as not to appear rude ... but they would soon settle upon her again. Vanessa noted this visual dance between the two squirrels, then with a smile turned her attention to others matters. With the swordfox sandwiched between Monty and Maura, and Alex monitoring Lady Mina in his constant manner, the Abbess felt confident that this assembly would not be caught off guard by anything.

Friar Hugh and his kitchen staff brought down a lunch of hot vegetable pies with leek soup and radish salad. He and his assistants made a show of serving all the food and drink from the side of the table opposite Machus, so that they did not have to go near the fox. The normal concerns for keeping up Redwall hospitality to all guests was nowhere to be seen in the abrupt manner of the servers. As Hugh withdrew from Cavern Hole after his final delivery to the table, he was heard to mutter (just loud enough for Machus to hear), "Glad I served that apple spice cake this morning ... wouldn't do for such a culinary masterpiece to disappear down the hole of a beast like that."

"Friar, please!" Vanessa reprimanded him in a loud whisper. "Your manners!"

Hugh hurried out of Cavern Hole with no word of apology and not the slightest hint of contrition on his face. In all honesty, Vanessa had to admit to herself that she shared at least some of his feelings. But she was Abbess, and she'd granted permission for Machus to enter Redwall as a guest. That meant sharing their food and their table, and treating him as a friend until he proved otherwise.

Machus gazed after the mouse Friar. He must have noticed the discourteous behavior toward him, but he seemed totally unperturbed by the incident. Turning calmly to Vanessa, he said, "I can see that I am not welcomed by all Redwallers."

"Please excuse Friar Hugh. He was a slave during part of his youth, and foxes were to blame."

"It's all right, Abbess. I have learned not to offend easily. I have received such treatment many times in the north, sometimes from the very goodbeasts I'd just helped. My kind has done much in the past to earn suspicion and distrust from other creatures. I am used to it."

"Yes, he is," agreed Urthblood, "although nobeast ought to be the object of such scorn. Part of the reason I insisted Machus be allowed inside the Abbey was so that you could all get to know him, and come to judge him as an individual, not just as a fox."

"Which is exactly what we're doing here now," said Abbot Arlyn, looking across the table at Machus. "I heard Lord Urthblood introduce you as 'Machus the Sword.' How did you come by such a title? Are you really that good with your weapon?"

"Well ... yes, I am," Machus answered earnestly. "But 'Sword' is more of a rank than a title. His Lordship decided many seasons ago that he wanted a brigade of foxes, trained in the use of the broadsword, as his high guard. Since I'd been with Lord Urthblood longer than any of my fellow foxes and was the most skilled with my blade, he made me brigade leader and bestowed upon me the special rank of Sword. If I should one day be slain in battle, another fox of the brigade would be promoted to Sword to take my place."

"Very interesting," said Vanessa, sending a probing stare the fox's way. "I am curious - how long have you been in Lord Urthblood's service? And how did the two of you first meet?"

"Oh, it has been ... " Machus looked to the badger warrior. "What, My Lord? Over fifteen seasons, unless I am mistaken."

"Seventeen. It was during my first spring in the Northlands, having left Salamandastron the previous summer." Urthblood expanded his tone to take in everybeast at the table. "In those days I traveled mostly alone since that was before I'd begun to assemble my present forces. One day I came across a small band of foxes, engaged in a fierce fight with a much larger number of searats. I did not know why they were fighting, and so I contented myself to watch for awhile, unobserved.

"From my cover, I could see that one fox was mostly responsible for holding the rat enemies at bay. His weapon and style may have been crude, but his skill was undeniable. He'd already felled several of the searats, and the rest were wary of coming within range of his blade. But the searat pirates were regrouping for a massed onslaught, and the foxes were sure to be massacred, despite the gallant efforts of their chief swordsbeast. Now, I had no great love for either foxes or searats, and might normally have allowed them to inflict as much slaughter upon each other as they could. But I recognized the makings of a true warrior in the beleaguered swordfox, and could not stand by and watch such potential be destroyed. So I stepped in and lent my own sword to the side of the foxes. The battle did not last much longer after that."

"And that fox," the Abbess ventured, "was Machus?"

"Yes. And he has been with me and served me loyally, from that day to this."

"Did you ever find out what the fight was about?" Aryln inquired.

Urthblood nodded, but gestured for the fox to take up the tale. It was almost as if they had worked out in advance which of them would relate which parts of the tale. Perhaps they'd told it so many times over the seasons that this was an old routine by now.

"We were, I confess, a rather typical band of foxes back in those days," Machus said. "My father was our leader. We existed by cheating and conning other beasts, and stealing for our needs whenever mere cheating failed. We weren't killers, although we sometimes had to fight our way out of tight places. That was why my father encouraged me to learn my early sword skills. On this particular day, we had tricked some half-drunk searats out of several kegs of wine and several sacks full of delicacies, plunder which they themselves had only just stolen from far better creatures. We thought we'd got the best of them, but their captain was a vicious sort, and when he learned what had happened to his crewrats, he led a larger force to hunt us down and slay us. We thought we could lose ourselves in the woods, but they had trackers, experienced in the ways of land, which we did not expect. They caught up with us, and we were forced to fight for our very lives." Machus raised his cup of ale halfway to his lips. "We didn't really stand a chance. I'd be a deadbeast today if Lord Urthblood had not come to our rescue."

Alexander could not help speaking quickly into the brief silence. "Of course, if you'd been honest beasts instead of robbers, you never would have had cause to be fighting those rats in the first place."

"Too true," Machus readily agreed. "Although I am forced to admit that there was no such thing as an honest fox in the Northlands before Lord Urthblood came there. But those rats were savage and violent, and many goodbeasts as well were murdered or enslaved by them before we encountered them. Had we been living the lives of decent folk, we might have fared even more poorly against them than we did." Machus held up a paw. "Not that I am defending a life of villainy. Those days are long behind me, and I am very glad that they are."

Vanessa peered over the top of her beaker. "So, you owe Lord Urthblood your life."

"Oh, more than that, Abbess. That was merely the first gift he gave me ... and it wouldn't have meant much, if it had been wasted on an ungrateful wretch."

"The sword?" Arlyn asked.

"Well, yes, that too, although His Lordship did not forge that for me until he felt I'd earned it." Machus ran his gaze around the table, looking steadily into the face of each Redwaller as he spoke. "I know you have all suffered at the paws of foxes in the past, and have good reason to distrust us. It was the same in the north. My father's band pursued a life of thievery because the goodbeasts of those lands would never have accepted us into their own midst. We did not even try to be honest or decent, since there was nothing for us that way.

"But Lord Urthblood changed all that. He believed that goodness could be brought out in nearly every creature. Before the honest folk of the north could be convinced of this, we had to be made to believe it ourselves. He took me, and many other misguided beasts like myself, into his service without question or suspicion. His rules were the same for everybeast under his command: obey his oders, or face punishment. The penalty for out-and-out treachery was death. It was not always easy, especially for foxes and vermin unaccustomed to real discipline. But Lord Urthblood was as quick to reward competence and loyalty as he was to punish disobedience and evil deeds. Those of us who served him well rose through the ranks. Any advancement in his forces was hard-earned. For the first time in our lives, we were encouraged to feel good about ourselves; a single word of praise from Lord Urthblood came to mean more than a hundred stolen meals. The otters and shrews and moles and squirrels and mice who served alongside us began to treat us like brothers in arms, not old enemies. And once they did, so too did the decent goodbeasts we met on our marches. In just a few short seasons, the bane of many ages was lifted from our existence. Now could we walk the main paths in the full light of day, heads held high in pride at our new station. It was a strange thing, to suddenly have the respect of beasts who had always feared and distrusted us. And now that we have won that respect, we could never go back to the way things were before. I know I speak for every fox in my brigade on this, and for most every rat, weasel, stoat and ferret in the infantry as well. We have been granted a gift greater than any treasure." Machus raised his cup high in salute to his badger master. "And we owe it all to Lord Urthblood. I know I have said it many times before, My Lord, but let me repeat it for the benefit of these good Redwallers: Thank you for what you have given us."

Urthblood returned the salute by hoisting his own mug. "It is you who deserves my thanks. The ways of a Badger Lord are hard, mine even harder than most ever since I set out to achieve what many said could never be done. Many better creatures than you were unable to meet the demands of being in my service. You not only outlasted them, but you proved your loyalty and ability in battle time after time, enough to earn promotion to your present high rank. The fox brigade you command keeps order among all the other so-called vermin in my army. I could never have succeeded this far without your hard work. To you, Machus ... may every general have a lieutenant as capable as you."

As Machus and Urthblood toasted each other, the Redwallers at the table joined in slowly and uncertainly. A toast given by a fox - or to one - was unheard of down in Cavern Hole. It was certainly shaping up to be a day of firsts for Redwall Abbey.

Abbess Vanessa said to Machus, "So, after Lord Urthblood helped you defeat the searats, how did you come to enter his service?"

The fox seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat or two. "He told me a little of his prophecy, and what he hoped to do to bring all creatures together. He said he was impressed by the skill I displayed, and offered to teach me how to better my swordplay if I joined him. He clearly valued my ability, and a fox does not get such an offer every day. I jumped at the chance."

"Tell them about your father," Urthblood rumbled in an offpaw manner.

Machus glared at the Badger Lord - an expression not of anger but of mortification. Lady Mina watched her fox comrade, calmly studying him for his reaction. The awkward silence stretched out as the bewildered Abbeydwellers looked on. From the face Machus wore, it was clear that Urthblood's casual remark carried some special meaning.

"My Lord, I - "

"Go ahead. Tell these goodbeasts what you did to your father when he refused to allow you to leave his band of villains to join me."

Machus swallowed nervously, gazing around all the expectant faces. His former swordmaster's confidence seemed to have vanished. At last, looking at nobeast in particular, he announced, "I killed him."

The Redwallers stared horrified at the red fox.

Machus slid back his chair and stood. "Please excuse me ... I seem to have lost my appetite." Meeting no gaze, he walked from the table and up the stairs to Great Hall.

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Lady Mina was the first to speak after Machus had gone.

"Poor Machus. And he was trying so hard to make a good first impression." The squirrel archer turned to Urthblood. "Wasn't that a bit cruel, My Lord?"

"I felt it was important for our hosts to know that Machus has some dark deeds in his own past. I did not want them to think he was too good to be true."

"Oh, no danger of that," Geoff said brusquely.

"Why, that cur!" Montybank opined. "Slayin' 'is own flesh 'n' blood! Only a scallywag who's rotten through an' through could do such a thing."

"Let us not judge Machus too harshly," advised Urthblood. "Your standards are not those of the savage north, especially back in those days, and especially for villainous creatures. To tell the truth, Machus's father was an evil beast who probably would have murdered his own son rather than lose him to me. I might have slain that old one myself, had we met under different circumstances. I believe that villain is much better off dead, and it was the poetic justice of fate that he met his end at the sword of the very beast who otherwise might have followed him down the road of evil."

"Somehow," said Lady Mina, "I feel the irony has always been lost on Machus. He's carried the knowledge of that deed like a heavy burden for all these seasons. It isn't something he likes other creatures to know about."

This fact was obvious from the way Machus had reacted upon being forced to make his admission. Nevertheless, it was hard for any of the Redwallers to feel much sympathy toward Machus - indeed, the whole matter did little to ease their suspicions of the fox in their midst.

"Um, Maura - " Vanessa caught the badger matriarch's attention, and tried to discreetly signal with her paws that Maura should go after Machus, so that the fox would not be free to wander Redwall unescorted. Unfortunately, it was not easy to be discreet at a crowded table, not with warriors as sharp as Urthblood and Lady Mina present. After Maura left her seat, Mina nodded knowingly.

"Ahh, wise move, Abbess. Honest folk don't want a fox wandering unsupervised among them."

"Sorry - I didn't think I was being so obvious." Vanessa watched Maura disappear up the steps to Great Hall, stolidly chasing after Machus. "But I can't say this little tale about Machus and his father has done much to cheer us up. I suppose there's nothing to be concerned about, really, but ... old habits, you know."

"Oh, we know exactly how you feel," Mina assured the Abbess. "I've had to put a shaft into many a fox during my seasons, even after I learned to regard Machus as a true friend. You've nothing to fear from that fox, but there are still many others of his kind who are evil to the core. Far better to risk offending an honest beast than to trust too easily, and pay with your lives."

The squirrel Lady spoke with a more carefree confidence than either Urthblood or Machus, as if nothing in the world could bother her. The Redwallers found themselves immediately liking her, except for Alexander; enchanted was the only word to describe how he felt about his fellow squirrel from the far north.

"And what about you, Lady Mina?" Vanessa asked. "How did you come to be in the service of Lord Urthblood?"

"In his service?" Mina took a long quaff of ginger-spiced ale. "A rather inaccurate choice of words, Mother Abbess. While I take orders from Lord Urthblood, I am not truly one of his soldiers. The Gawtrybe are more allies to his Lordship than members of his army."

"But, you have sworn him fealty?"

"As a tribe, yes. But we have our own chain of command, which we follow even when we fight alongside Lord Urthblood. So, while we will respond to any request for assistance that he makes of us and obey his orders on the field of battle, we lie outside his main forces. That is one reason why I am the only Gawtrybe squirrel to travel with him to Redwall: I am more of an envoy than a soldier in this army. Also, Redwall has very special meaning to us, and I have come to address that as well."

The Abbess was quite surprised. "You know of Redwall, so far north?"

"Indeed we do. And before I explain further, perhaps I should ask how much you know of us?"

Vanessa deferred to Geoff, who knew more than any Redwaller about such matters.

"Yes, I've been dying to ask you," the recorder mouse began, "are you the same Gawtrybe who aided Martin the Warrior in the Battle of Marshank, more seasons ago than Redwall has been standing?"

Lady Minda nodded. "Just as you are the same Redwallers who have dwelt in this fine Abbey since Martin and Abbess Germaine built it. Moreso, probably, since we can trace a director ancestor back to those ancient times. Tell me, what do you know of Redwall's first squirrel archer, Lady Amber, or her family?"

"Um ... I recognize the name of Lady Amber," Geoff said, searching his memories of his archive readings. "She is mentioned numerous times in the chronicles of the Wildcat War, which Martin and the goodbeasts of Mossflower fought before Redwall was built. But I do not know anything about any other members of her family."

"She had a son." Mina glanced across the table to meet the gaze of the Redwall squirrel chief who was so attentive to her. "A son named Alexander."

This revelation brought raised eyebrows and surprised chuckles from around the table. Monty winked at his old squirrel friend. "Hear that, Alex matey? Ye're ancient!"

"Did Alexander play some part in Redwall history of which we should be aware?" Geoff inquired.

"Not exactly Redwall history," Mina answered. "I am not surprised that his name is unknown to you, although he was born here at this Abbey. Your warrior Martin was an old mouse by the time Alexander was nearing adulthood. It is spoken among the Gawtrybe that Martin saw in the young squirrel a fierce and restless warrior's spirit that reminded him of his own youth. Although Martin had sworn never to speak of his tragic past in the Northlands to any beast of Mossflower, he made an exception for his friend Amber's son - not the entire story, but just enough to let Alexander know that there was a whole forest full of wild, agressive squirrels in the far north, squirrels in need of taming and a real leader if they ever hoped to have a place among decent creatures.

"As you can imagine, Alexander's soul was fired by this tale. He knew he must go to that very same forest that Martin had visited in his youth, to find those squirrels and tame them. We were the Gawtrybe, so savage and violent that most creatures regarded us as enemies, even after we had helped Martin fight the Battle of Marshank and rid the east coast of the slaver tyrant. When, after several seasons of traveling, Alexander finally stood at the brink of our domain and gazed upon us, he cannot have liked what he saw.

"But he was equal to the challenge. Like Martin the Warrior, he would not be daunted by a difficult task, nor would he shy away from what needed to be done. He challenged our vicious chieftain Kiriluk for leadership of our tribe, and slew Kiriluk in single combat to the death. In the next season's time, Alexander had to slay two others who sought to make themselves chieftain. Thanks to the training Alexander had been given by Martin, no other squirrel was able to best him, and after those two attempts none tried.

"Alexander took a mate, marrying into the Gawtrybe and making our forest his home for ever more. It was then that he set upon his greatest task: to turn these wild squirrels he had found into decent, respectable, skilled fighters who would be both friend and ally to all other goodbeasts of the Northlands. Now, he was unbeatable in paw-to-paw combat, but Alexander's archery skills, learned from his mother Lady Amber, were even more formidable. Nobeast of any kind in all the north could fly a shaft as long and true as he could, and it was this skill that he undertook to teach all the Gawtrybe.

"He was a good teacher, and a great leader. By the time he grew too old to be chieftain any longer, he had a fine, strong son to take his place. From that day to this, the Gawtrybe have always been ruled by a direct descendant of Alexander's. My brother Marinus and I can trace our lineage straight back to him, and thence to Lady Amber of Mossflower. So, in a sense, we ourselves are Redwallers."

"Well, shiver me whiskers an' stomp me rudder!" Monty declared. "Now that's more the kind o' story we Redwallers like t' hear. Shore beats that nasty ol' fox slaying 'is nasty ol' father."

"Yes," said the Abbess, "it's good to know that the spirit of Redwall survives in far away lands as well as in our own Abbey. But, I am very surprised we never heard of any of this before."

"Well, Alexander left Redwall when he was quite young, and never returned in all his days," said Mina. "His great deeds were done in a land where the creatures of Mossflower never ventured. And even after he died and his legend began to grow among our tribe, his descendants were kept too occupied by constant war and strife to send word of all that had happened back to Redwall. From the viewpoint of your own histories, he would have seemed nothing more than a young wanderer who one day set out for adventure and was never heard from again. Hardly the stuff of Redwall legend, even if his mother was Lady Amber. But you can see why I was very surprised to find that you had a squirrel named Alexander living at the Abbey today. It is almost like a token of fate that these are indeed times of destiny, when I can travel to Redwall and find the namesake of our tribe's founder living here to greet me."

"And so our history grows." Geoff had produced some loose sheets of paper and an ink-filled stylus from within his habit, and now set about furiously scribbling at his place, food and drink pushed aside for the moment. Forgetting all aspects of proper table etiquette, he was intent only upon capturing as many of the Gawtrybe squirrel's words as he could while her tale was still fresh in his memory. "I will want to speak with you more later, at your convenience, My Lady. This is an important part of our history of which we were unaware, and it should be entered into the chronicles in as much detail as you can provide."

"Oh, there will be plenty of time for that," Mina assured him. "I expect to be around for some time."

Alexander, staring across the table at his fellow squirrel, felt his heart quicken with hope. "M'Lady, are you planning to stay here at Redwall, as a permanent member of our community? If so, you would be most welcome."

The male squirrel's attentions toward her had not been lost on Lady Mina. Almost coyly, she said to Alexander, "Oh, I've no doubt of that. I could have guessed that without you having to say a word."

Alex self-consciously cleared his throat and looked down at his plate, ears reddening slightly. But within moments his gaze was firmly back on Mina; he could not keep his eyes off her for very long.

Mina addressed Vanessa and the others. "Lord Urthblood has discussed with us the idea of bringing some of the Gawtrybe south to help with the defense of Mossflower in its times of need. So far, we have seen nothing on this march to suggest you folk are in any immediate jeopardy, but things change. If this plan is put into effect, it would make sense for one of the Gawtrybe leaders to relocate to Mossflower in order to oversee our forces here. Most likely, my brother Marinus, who is the chieftain of the Gawtrybe, would remain in the north, where his warrior's skills and leadership are most needed, and I would come to these fair lands as the Gawtrybe commander in the south. All this depends, of course, upon what the days ahead bring."

"Why do you say that?" the Abbess asked.

Urthblood took over from Lady Mina. "I had three purposes in coming here. The first was to share my prophecy with the leaders of Redwall, and help to improve this Abbey's defenses in any way that I could. This I have done. My second aim was to travel throughout much of Mossflower country, to gauge the temper of the woodlands and judge for myself if any trouble loomed near. We have found none so far, but my army has only been north of Redwall, and there is still a great expanse of forest to the south that I wish to investigate. I will have the opportunity to do so when I set out to achieve my third objective."

"Which is?" Arlyn asked.

"To go to Salamandastron. I have not spoken with my brother Urthfist in many seasons, and the time has come for the two of us to work together as one. I do not know whether I will reclaim the throne of the mountain and make Salamandastron my permanent home once more, or return to the Northlands to continue my work there while my brother guards the coastlands. It will all depend upon what I find when I get there, and whether I encounter any trouble along the way. I would like to give my troops a few days' rest here at Redwall, then we will depart."

"Soooo ... " Vanessa ventured, "you will only be staying with us for several days more?"

"My stay at Redwall was never meant to be more than temporary. I have much to do elsewhere, and although I would dearly love to remain here longer, I cannot. I also realize that the number of my troops is a strain on your Abbey, and I would not impose upon you any longer than necessary."

"Well ... anything we can do to help speed you on your way, simply let us know." Vanessa hoped she didn't sound too eager. But every Redwaller at the table shared her sense of relief that Urthblood's horde of vermin would soon be on its way.


	12. Chapter 12

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twelve

"Burr hurr, oi never berlieved thurr wurr so many vermint in th' whole wurld!"

Billus the mole stood upon the south ramparts, flanked on either paw by Cyril and Cyrus. He and the mouse brothers were equally captivated by the sight of Urthblood's army, spread out on the meadow beyond the south wall.

"They're all mixed up together, all kinds of creatures," Cyrus exclaimed, pointing from place to place among the resting troops. "Look over there, there's a whole squad of otters, more'n we have in all of Redwall. An' they're talking and laughing with a bunch o' weasels like they're old friends. And down there are scores of shrews, all mixed in with scores more o' rats. An' I see ferrets, an' hedgehogs - "

Young Droge pushed his spiny head between them. "Hogs? Where? Where?"

" - and even some mice, just like us, Cyr!"

"Yurr hurr, an' thurr be sum molers, just loik oi!" Billus said excitedly.

Cyril was as excited as any of them, but his amazement held him silent for the moment. Vermin and goodbeasts, all tossed together like the makings of an otters' hotroot stew! It was like the world had suddenly been turned topsy-turvy, with all the old, accepted ways stood on their head. If he weren't seeing it with his own eyes, Cyril wouldn't have believed it. Even now, with the sight laid out below him on the sun-drenched pasture, he wasn't sure he believed it.

There was one group in Urthblood's army that didn't mingle with the rest, holding itself apart most conspicuously. Cyril's eye was drawn to their neat black uniforms and the large swords that hung at their sides. "Those foxes don't seem too friendly with the others," he observed.

Balla the cellarkeeper was one of the many adult Redwallers up on the battlements along with the youngsters, pacing back and forth as they warily monitored the armed beasts outside. "No surprise there, Cyril lad. Nobeast likes bein' round them scoundrels, not even their fellow vermin. Rat's 'n' weasels're bad 'nuff, but foxes 're the worst o' the lot!"

Cyril felt he had to agree. Every Redwaller knew of the treachery of Slagar during the time of Matthias the Second Warrior. And then there was the trouble caused by the Marlfoxes a few generations later. And, of course, their very own Friar Hugh had been enslaved by foxes in his youth. It would be hard to find an Abbeydweller who would argue Balla's point. Foxes were definitely the worst. And now there were a score of them here at Redwall.

"Their leader went down to Cavern Hole to meet with the Mother Abbess," Cyrus said. "Alexander took his sword first ... they say it's just like Martin's!"

"Aye, that's true," Balla nodded, "I was there an' saw it my own self. An exact copy, or close 'nuff to fool these eyes. How a dirty fox got t' have his stinkin' paws on a weapon that fine I'll never fathom. But it ain't right!"

Elmwood the squirrel leaned against the walltop close by. "Prob'ly got it the same way he got his high rank: Urthblood gave it to him. What that badger's all about is beyond me." He glanced out over the meadow below. "Something strange ... not a single squirrel in all that horde, 'cept for the one who's down in Cavern Hole right now. Wonder why that is?"

The young otter Brydon lounged next to Elmwood. "No mystery there. That band o' foxes has enough bushy tails for this whole army!"

Brydon was dividing his attention between the meadow outside and the Abbey grounds. He and his fellow otters were in charge of guarding the wall gates, to make sure nobeast tried to open them from within or without. He suddenly stiffened to attention when he saw Machus, alone and unsupervised, emerge onto the lawns from within the Abbey.

"Hey, lookout there!" he called to the others around him. "Wot's that fox doin' down there all by himself?"

Everybeast turned to look. Brydon's grip tightened on his javelin, while Elmwood automatically notched an arrow to his bowstring.

"That's not good," the squirrel said ominously. "The elders would never have let him leave Cavern Hole without an escort - "

Even as Elmwood spoke, Maura followed Machus out onto the grounds. The Abbeydwellers atop the wall all heaved a collective sigh of relief.

"Well, that's more like it," Brydon said. "Maura can handle any grief that fox dishes out. Still, suppose we'd better keep an eagle eye on 'em, just in case."

While the young otter kept up his vigil, the others returned their attention to the mighty horde outside the wall.

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Maura almost ran into Machus in her haste to catch up with the fox. Machus had his back to her, so she was able to slow to a normal walk before he turned at the sound of her approach. But her run up the stairs and through Great Hall left her panting in the summer heat, betraying the fact that she'd been chasing after him. Like Abbess Vanessa, Maura didn't want to appear too obvious that this particular guest of Redwall was not trusted enough to be left on his own.

Machus turned to greet her with a scowl on his features. But he quickly chased it away with a look of chagrin and embarrassment.

"Sorry. As a captain of the guard, I'm not used to being guarded myself."

"Oh ... er, it's not that," Maura stammered untruthfully. "It's just that it's not our custom to allow guests to wander about without a guide their first day here." She didn't know why all of a sudden she should care what this creature though about her ... but she did.

"You are too courteous. I'm going back out to rejoin my troops. I would like my sword back, please."

"Oh, the Abbess had it put up in her private study so that nobeast would toy with it. I couldn't go in there alone without permission."

"I was given to understand I would only have to surrender my weapon while I was inside Redwall. I can't appear before my beasts stripped of my sword. It is my symbol of rank and honor."

"Well, then, don't go outside." Maura gestured toward the orchard. "Let's go sit where it's cool. If you still feel like leaving the Abbey when lunch is over down in Cavern Hole, Vanessa can get your sword for you then."

Machus studied the badger before him. "After what I said down there, I wouldn't have thought any of you would want to be around me if you didn't have to."

Maura chose her words before speaking. "I don't know you, Machus. But I've had enough time to get to know Lord Urthblood to be sure of one thing: you would not be a captain in his army if you were a truly evil beast."

"Yes, but sometimes even goodbeasts can commit evil deeds."

Maura nodded. "If they are truly goodbeasts, they can put their past misdeeds behind them and get on with living decent lives."

The fox gave her an assessing look. "Most creatures would not be so understanding about what I did."

"Most creatures are not Redwallers," Maura shot back. "Lord Urthblood said your father probably deserved his fate. I was not there, so I will not judge you, however tempted I might be. I can only tell you that you are not acting like an evil beast, who would feel no remorse over such a thing and might even go so far as to brag about it. You obviously do not feel that way. You seem ashamed of your deed, as any good-hearted creature would."

Machus shrugged and glanced away. "Perhaps my father did deserve such a fate. But I take no pride that it was I who made him meet it." He looked toward the orchard. "Now that you mention it, the shade under those trees does look inviting. I can rejoin my troops later. Would you care to join me?"

"Of course." Maura escorted Machus over to the fruit grove, where the pawful of Abbeydwellers lunching there would surely be surprised to find a fox suddenly in their midst. "Perhaps your appetite has returned enough to sample some more of our tasty fare. There's always plenty for everybeast."

Maura studied Machus out of the corner of her eye as she walked alongside him. An honorable fox? Maybe.

Or maybe, Maura thought to herself, you are merely a very good actor, my friend. She would not let this one out of her sight, not while he dwelt within Redwall's peaceful grounds.

00000000000

Friar Hugh and Brother Joel stood upon the ramparts along with most of the other Abbeydwellers, regarding the massed force of mixed creatures arrayed out in the south meadow. Even a few of the Sparra had joined the onlookers, hopping sure-clawed along the crenellated walltop. Bird and beast alike continued to engage in speculation over what it all meant.

The two mice most responsible for feeding the Abbey had more than just idle speculation on their minds, however.

Joel turned to the Friar, whiskers wrinkled in worry. "You don't suppose they'll all be staying, do you? Inside Redwall, I mean?"

"Inside or out, they'll be our guests if the Abbess says they are," Hugh replied gruffly. "And from what I caught of the conversation down in Cavern Hole, my guess is they'll be around for awhile." The Friar was clearly none too pleased by this prospect.

"But ... the storm!" the horticulturalist mouse fretted, wringing the frayed ends of his habit cord. "We lost so much of the harvest! We'd have enough hardship feeding so many hungry mouths even in the best of times. But now, I don't see how there will possibly be enough food to go around!"

"Nor do I," Friar Hugh agreed. "Not without putting our stocks so low that we'd starve over the winter." He glanced toward the orchard, where Machus had been seen to go with Maura a short time before. "Well, I'm not about to see a single Redwaller go hungry, just so we can feed the likes of that."

"You are one hundred percent right, so far as those villainous vermin go. But what about Urthblood's other troops? He's got otters, shrews, moles, hedgehogs, even other mice ... we can't turn them down if they ask to be fed. And how can we give food to some without giving it to all?"

"Very easily," Hugh answered. "Allow only the decent creatures inside, and keep the rabble out. They can fend for themselves in the woods, and that way we'll know that none of our precious food is being wasted on beasts who don't deserve it!"

Brother Joel shook his head. "You've got it all figured out. But if the Abbess says otherwise, we will still have to abide by her wishes. If that means feeding everybeast in that army, then we will."

"Why would she do something that would endanger the health of decent woodlanders? She can't, and that's all there is to it. You and I will simply have to make it clear to her that there's not enough food to go around, and help her come to the right decision. After all, we're the ones who have to keep Redwall fed, not her."

There was something mutinous in the Friar's tone, and Joel wasn't sure he cared for it. "But she's the Abbess ... "

"Yes, she is," said Hugh. "Which means she must always do what is best for Redwall. For that, she must heed the advice of everybeast who helps to run this Abbey. If she should happen to forget that this is her place, it's up to us to remind her, and advise her what is best ... for Redwall, not for some gang of unruly vermin camped outside our walls."

Joel cast an eye down to the meadow. Urthblood's army was neither unruly nor, as he'd pointed out, all vermin. "Yes," he agreed hesitantly, "certainly we must advise her. But I'm not sure I like your tone ... "

The Friar gave an indignant snort. "You've never been a slave, have you? Well, I have ... and it was the likes of those down there who put me in chains and kept me there for two seasons of my youth. Boils my blood, just knowing that fox weaseled his way into a lunch down in Cavern Hole with our leaders."

Brother Joel scratched at his snout, reluctant to enter a full-blown argument with Hugh. "Well, the Abbess could have chosen to make the fox stay outside, but she didn't. Maybe we're forgetting what Redwall is all about."

"It's not about us going hungry because we had to feed some army we never invited here."

Joel glanced toward the main Abbey. "Oh, look, the meeting seems to have let out. Here comes Montybank, and Alexander, and Urthblood with that squirrel Lady. Don't see the others, though. They must still be inside."

Monty headed out to the orchard, but Alex made straight for the wallsteps, bounding up them to the high walkway. He dodged past the two mice and a dozen other Redwallers until he got to Elmwood. The onlookers pressed close to hear what their squirrel arms master had to say.

"Hey, stand back a bit, give us some room!" he called out, then turned to his second-in-command. "Elmwood, pass the word to all the Mossflower Patrol, and to all the otters too. The Abbess has called a private meeting of just the main Abbey leaders, up in her study. We'll need Maura there too, so it's up to you to keep a sharp eye on that fox as long as he's inside our walls. Oh, and keep this kinda mum ... we're doing this on the sly from Lord Urthblood. The Abbess told him we'll be meeting about routine Abbey business."

"Ur, don't you think he'll be able to figure out on his own what you're up to?"

"Probably. But Vanessa doesn't want to be too blatant about it."

"Okay. You can count on us," Elmwood assured Alex, with a half-salute.

Alexander turned to head back down the stairs, but Friar Hugh caught his sleeve as he passed. "I'd like to be there too. If this is about that army staying at Redwall, I've got some things to say about that."

"Sorry, Friar, but it's going to be pretty crowded up in that study. There'll be time later for you to bend Vanessa's ear about anything you want."

Hugh started to insist, but Alex was already gone, flashing down the wallsteps to rejoin the other Abbey leaders.

"Well, I never," the Friar huffed. "No more acorn crunch surprise for that squirrel this season! Speaking of which, I'd better go and get a start on the evening meal, now that lunch is more or less finished." He started down the stone stairway, following in Alexander's wake at a far more sedate and dignified pace. "Though it sure would help," he grumbled to himself, "if I knew how many beasts I'll be cooking for!"

00000000000

Alexander was right: the study of Abbess Vanessa was quite crowded, and the situation wasn't helped any by Maura's return.

"Sorry for the holdup," she apologized, squeezing into the room between Montybank and Foremole and securing the door behind her. "I gave Machus his sword back, and escorted him outside. Lord Urthblood and Lady Mina went with him. Urthblood's going to give his troops a formal review. He was strongly hinting that he wanted some of us to join him."

"And so we will," said Vanessa, "as soon as we're finished here."

"Glad he didn't press the point; we would've had a hard time explaining what matters are more important than what's to be done about his army."

"Well, that's what we're here to discuss. Amongst ourselves, not with Lord Urthblood." Vanessa ran her gaze around the chamber; in addition to herself, Maura, Monty and Foremole, also present were Arlyn, Alexander, Geoff and Highwing. Only Arlyn, in deference to his age, was allowed the privilege of a soft highbacked chair, while the Sparra leader perched above him. Everybeast else stood.

The badger matriarch leaned her bulk against the door; like most of the doors in Redwall, this one could not be locked without a key, and the Abbess didn't want this meeting disturbed by anybeast who hadn't been invited.

"I can see these quarters are rather close for so many of us, and since Lord Urthblood is waiting for us, I'll keep this as brief as I can," the Abbess began. "An army has come to our home, an army composed largely of creatures who have traditionally been our enemies. Urthblood says that they are honest and trustworthy. And maybe they are. But I cannot take his word for this. I am Abbess, and if even one Redwaller loses its life to this army, that death will be on my head. I will not let that horde inside this Abbey. Not yet, anyway."

She studied the faces of her friends, and did not see a single look of disagreement among them. "Urthblood says he wants us to get to know his beasts and judge them for ourselves. We shall certainly take him up on his offer ... starting with that fox Machus. Maura, you've already spent some time alone with him. Well, you're going to spend a lot more. You and Machus are about to become inseparable friends ... or at the least, inseparable. I want you by his side his every waking moment that he's within our walls, not just to guard him, but to study him. If there's something rotten about him, he'll slip and let it show sooner or later."

Maura grimaced. Even though she'd found her visit with Machus in the orchard not at all unpleasant, she did not relish the thought of being glued to him like an oarslave aboard a pirate ship.

"You can count on me, Vanessa. I won't let him out of my sight."

"Very good." She turned to her squirrel friend. "Alex, I'm sure you will find your assignment more agreeable than Maura's. Urthblood only has one squirrel in his present army, but she seems an important part of his force. It was, um, rather obvious all through lunch that you've taken quite a shine to Lady Mina, and I'm sure you're hoping to spend a lot of time with her. Well, you will. I don't know if you can capture her fancy as much as she's captured yours, but you'll have plenty of opportunity to find out. Talk to her, Alex, for as many hours as she can stand. Get her to open up to you. Find out everything you can about the Gawtrybe and their real relationship with Lord Urthblood, what conditions are like these days in the Northlands, and her experiences during her service with him. Try your best to stay impartial, however smitten you become, so you can gauge whether she's being truthful. I doubt a squirrel is as likely to lie as a fox, but we must take nothing for granted. Pay close attention to all that she tells you, and be on guard for discrepencies and contradictions in her tales. Also be alert to things she might try to hide or answers that are evasive. Urthblood was less than forthcoming to us about having vermin in his army, and having such a large force so close to Redwall. Perhaps his captains practice such deception as well."

Alexander nodded, although honestly it was difficult for him to believe that any creature as strong and proud - yes, and beautiful - as Lady Mina could be playing them false. "I'll try my best ... and I'm sure I'll have a lot of volunteer help from the other squirrels of the Mossflower Patrol. The males, anyway. But, what about that story she told of the other Alexander and Lady Amber? Do you really think the whole thing could have been made up?"

"I don't know." Vanessa looked to the historian in their midst. "Geoff, you say you don't recall any mention of Amber's son in the early records at all?"

Geoff still clutched at the notes he'd hurriedly made down in Cavern Hole from Mina's tale. "No, it was all new to me. I suppose I could do a more careful search for such details, now that all the early chronicles are out and easily at paw anyway ... "

"If you could, please. Although, if those events really did happen as she told us, she's probably right about nobeast at Redwall making note of it. Your present search for clues to Urthblood's prophecy is your most important task at the moment ... and today's events may even help you. I cannot believe that such a horde as that which has come to us today was not foreseen by one of our ancestors. Look for references to great numbers of beasts coming here, especially vermin and woodlanders together."

"I've been through all the early records most carefully, and I don't recall any such thing." Geoff shrugged. "But, I'll look again. Maybe I missed it, or maybe there will be something about it in one of the later histories I haven't gotten to yet. But you're right: it does give us more to go on than we had."

Vanessa looked to Montybank. "Back to the matters at paw. There are a lot of otters in Urthblood's army outside. Monty, I want you and all of your otters to mingle with your brethren from the north. Nobeasts are more outgoing than otters, and I'm sure an entire squad of them could never hold a secret or keep up a lie for very long ... especially from other otters. Be friendly, and just let them talk as they will. But pay very close attention, just as I told Alex to do with Lady Mina.

"Of course, there is one otter among them in particular who might be able to tell us the most. Cozy up to Warnokur. He's a Redwaller, or at least his son is, and he's only been with Urthblood for a season. His first allegiance will be to us. I doubt he could have been kept in the dark for an entire season with Urthblood's otters; I'm relying on him to tell us if there's anything afoot we should know about. He'll be spending a lot of time with Winokur, Monty, so that will give you a good reason to hang about with both of them, since you've been like a second father to Wink. Find out everything you can, and report to me, Maura or Alex at once if something out of sorts does pop up."

The otter Skipper saluted his Abbess. "Aye, Nessa! Me an' me lads 'n' lasses'll politely twist some flippers 'mongst Urthblood's otters. Won't any secret keep from us while I'm at th' helm! An' I'll knock heads with Warnokur personally. Never been favorites with each other, mind, but I'll make good 'n' shore we get along smooth as hazel brandy this time."

"I'm sure you'll do a fine job." Vanessa nodded toward Foremole. "I guess I hardly have to tell you what your assignment is, Foremole. Urthblood has an entire corps of moles out there. While Monty and his otters are making fast friends with Urthblood's otters, you'll be doing the same with his moles. Just ask them about moleish things - what their place is in Urthblood's army, how their skills are used, the experiences they've had under his command. Make it look like you're simply comparing your own tunneling and building pastimes to theirs, and let come out in their stories whatever may. Show their Foremole around Redwall if you wish; this Abbey was largely built by mole skills, and the mere sight of what we have here should be enough to impress any Northlander who's never seen such a place."

"Yurr hurr, et's roight 'nuff thurr, marm. Oi'll do moi bestest."

Vanessa drew a deep breath. "Which leaves all the scores of rats, stoats, weasels and ferrets. We don't have any of those of our own. But Maura thinks we've been invited to review Urthblood's troops, and I think that's a fine idea. So before any of you set about the tasks I've just given you, let's have a closer look at this army as a whole. Monty, Alex, you'll join me in this. You too, Maura. This will be our rule from now on: nobeast allowed outside the wall unless you're armed and in groups. Lord Urthblood has made a point of showing us several times how he feels our vigilance should be improved. We'll be very vigilant now."

"Do I understand," Geoff asked the Abbess, "that you plan on going out there yourself to meet that army? I don't think that's a very good idea, Nessa."

"I agree," seconded old Abbot Arlyn. "It's too risky."

"How else are we going to find out what we need to know?" Vanessa challenged.

"You're too valuable to risk," Arlyn said. "Let me go in your stead. I was Abbot once, after all, so Urthblood should accept my authority nearly as much as yours. And if anything untoward does occur, well, I can be spared. You cannot."

Vanessa was about to protest, then relented. "Are you sure this is something you're willing to do, Arlyn?"

"I'll have Monty, Maura and Alex to guard me. That should be safeguard enough."

"Aye," the otter nodded, "an' I'll bring Wink along too. He's young, but he can handle a javelin better'n most beasts twice 'is age. Warnokur might lend a paw too, if trouble breaks out."

"And my squirrels will be watching closely from the ramparts," Alex added. "They're very good shots."

"And I'd like to join them too," Highwing chimed in. "I'll be in no danger, since I can fly away at the first sign of trouble. To rally my Sparra, of course," he hastily added, not wanting to look like he was thinking only of his own welfare.

"All right," Vanessa nodded her acceptance. "See if you can seek out the vermin captains first. Between the five of you, you should be able to tell whether they are dangerous and if it would be safe for me to meet them myself. Just be careful, all of you. Keep on your toes. Keep your eyes and ears open. If there is danger at our door, I'd like to know it before any Redwallers come to harm. At the very first sign that those 'honorable vermin' are not what Urthblood says they are, he and his horde will find themselves locked outside our walls and told to move on."

"Easier said than done," Geoff remarked. "I get the feeling that Urthblood doesn't take orders from anybeast, not even the Abbess of Redwall."

"Unless he wants his name to be reviled by every goodbeast in Mossflower, he will honor our wishes," Vanessa said firmly.

"And if he doesn't care whether his name is reviled?" asked Geoff.

"Then let's go find out what kind of badger this is who's come to us. You all know what to do. Let's get to it. And be careful, my friends."

00000000000

Everybeast filed out of the study, until Vanessa was left alone with Arlyn. Abbess and former Abbot looked at each other across Vanessa's desk.

"I was listening to myself just now," she sighed, "and I can't believe I'm saying such things about a Badger Lord of Salamandastron. A guest of our Abbey, who's come to warn us of a crisis and offer us his help ... "

"Who, as you pointed out yourself, has kept things hidden from us," Arlyn responded. "And who has brought this army here without warning, even after we'd asked him to give us notice so we would have time to prepare. He was talking to a kite of his last night; he must have known how close his force was to Redwall. In fact I'd wager my whiskers that was when he gave the order for them to march on us today. Rather underpawed behavior, if you ask me, and not at all what I'd expect from a Badger Lord."

"He'd just say he was trying to prove a point - that a large army could approach Redwall without us being aware of it. And now he'll want to cut down those trees. Alex will have a fit!"

Arlyn smiled. "I do believe our Alexander is so distracted by Lady Mina that Urthblood could cut down half the trees in Mossflower and that squirrel wouldn't notice! But, Urthblood has given us no choice. His own deeds demand that we treat him with suspicion, at least as long as he has so many armed rats and weasels and foxes outside our gates."

Vanessa sighed deeply. "Whenever Redwall faced an enemy in the past, we knew we were dealing with creatures of pure evil. What are we facing now? I cannot believe a Badger Lord would be our foe, and yet he is not acting fully like a friend either. It is a quandary."

"Perhaps he is neither one," Arlyn said slowly. "Friend or foe, I mean. It's that dire prophecy of his. He's got his own agenda, and he's going to do whatever he will, regardless of what we or anybeast else thinks about him."

"You may be right," Vanessa agreed. "Any creature touched by the powers of fate so strongly as he has been must perhaps follow a path apart from all others. If that is true, I cannot imagine what a lonely and grim existence it must be for him."

"There is that," admitted Arlyn. "It's certain that nobeast has ever done anything at all like he's done ... no creature but a Badger Lord could possibly have pulled it off. Maybe nobeast with evil intent could keep that force together."

"But just because it can be done, doesn't make doing it a good idea. I'm not ready to give Urthblood my sympathies just yet, no matter how cheerless a life he'd led. That's his affair; those vermin and foxes outside are ours, and he's got no right to let them loose in Mossflower if they're bound to do harm." Vanessa gazed searchingly at her mentor. "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about letting all of you go out there. What if something does go wrong? Most of the Abbey leadership would be wiped out."

Arlyn shrugged. "I still think it's better to find out this way than to remain in the dark. You and Geoff will be staying inside, and I couldn't think of better paws in which to leave Redwall. Elmwood is an admirable lieutenant of the Forest Patrol, and would make a formidable commander in Alexander's absence. And don't forget Foremole. Not to mention Friar Hugh, and Sister Aurelia, and Brother Joel ... "

"And young Cyril," Vanessa added with a grin, "our newest Abbey champion!"

"Oh, yes, we mustn't leave him out! So you see, Vanessa, even if the worst should happen out there today, Redwall will still be left with strong leadership. But I'm betting that nothing will happen. If Urthblood had wanted to take this Abbey, he could have done it before now. And if he doesn't, then he'd have no reason to let us come to harm. I do think he sincerely wants to remain in our good graces, whatever his motives might be."

"Even if that's true," said Vanessa, "what of all those vermin? You and the others will be walking right into an army of them. Can they be trusted not to cause you any harm?"

"Urthblood would seem to think so. And if he's really trying to make a good impression with us, I'd guess that it will be woe to anybeast in his forces who so much as musses our fur."

"I hope you're right, Arlyn, my dear old mouse."

"So do I, Vanessa. So do I." The retired Abbot rose gingerly from his chair. "But I won't find out just sitting here, gathering dust. Let's have a close look at these vermin for ourselves. And then we shall see what we shall see."

(_To be continued in_ The Crimson Badger, Book II: Armies)


End file.
